Safe No More
by OyHumbug
Summary: Elizabeth Webber, a single mother, bites off more than she can chew when she decides to squat in one of mob boss Jason Morgan's safe houses.
1. Chapter 1

**Safe… No More**

**A One Shot  
FNF#10: Put that away, we don't have time for that right now.**

She had met Jason Morgan once, but that was before.

Before she fell in love, before the fire, before she found out she was pregnant. It was hard to think about the short amount of time that had separated her very first and, as far as she was aware, only meeting with the intimidating mob boss and the point where her life had changed completely. One minute she was a normal teenager, and, then, the next thing she knew, she was mourning the loss of her boyfriend and branded the town slut, tossed out onto the street to fend for herself. Eighteen and knocked up, the Webbers had wanted nothing to do with her. Eighteen and knocked up, her Gram had decided that she was sick and tired of trying to clean up her granddaughter's messes, that it was high time for her to learn to take responsibility for her own actions. And, eighteen and pregnant, the Spencers had suggested she have an abortion.

But Elizabeth had ignored them all.

Not that it hadn't been a struggle the past four years. At first, she had managed to rent a small studio apartment on the docks with the money she made waitressing at Kelly's, but, eventually, when she had to quit her job in order to have the baby, she had fallen behind in her bills, eventually getting evicted. At that point, she had tried again. Penniless, hungry, and with a constantly crying baby in her arms, she had applied, and then pleaded, and then flat out begged for a job at the various places of employment around town, only to be rudely, mockingly turned down. She sought out government assistance, but there was never enough to go around, never enough to make sure that her son was taken care of properly and that they had a roof over their heads. It had been the hardest thing she had ever managed to live through, and, even though she and her little boy had eventually found a way to make it work, there had never been a point when she had regretted her decision to keep the child.

Upending another drawer full of clothes into her large duffle bag, Elizabeth pushed the items aside, making room for more. She didn't care if the t-shirts and jeans and sweaters were folded neatly. At that point, it didn't matter. Later, once they were safe and someplace new, she could worry about unwrinkling her clothes. In that moment, though, time was of the essence. If they weren't out of the house in a matter of minutes… Well, she didn't even want to contemplate what could… and probably would happen.

So, she didn't. Rather, she focused on the task at hand – packing. Cameron was in his own room, hopefully, working away just as she had told him to. While she would worry about gathering the necessities – their clothes, their blankets, the few items of food she kept in the cabin, her son was supposed to be packing up his favorite toys. Not that he had very many to choose from, but, because they were running on foot and had been staying there for a good six months, there would be things he would have to leave behind. She was only 

one woman, and her arms were only so big. Some things would simply could not taken.

It was the risk they took, living the way they did, and to think that it had all started with a boxcar. Broken and desperate, the new, teenaged mother had roamed the streets of Port Charles after her son was born and they had been released from the hospital. With no job, no family who wanted to claim them, and no one to turn to for help, she had eventually taken them to the old boxcar that her high school sweetheart and the father of her baby had lived in for a while. The walls she had worked so carefully on were still painted, and she used the old abandoned railroad property to recuperate. The weather wasn't perfect for practically camping out, but, as long as she kept the baby fed and warm, that's all that mattered, and, eventually, more importantly, staying there had given her an idea.

There were plenty of properties in and around Port Charles where she and her son could stay, could live. There were summer cottages by the lake, cabins on the outside of town closer to the mountains, and she knew that the local crime syndicates kept plenty of safe houses sitting empty all year round. Stocked safe houses. And, thanks to the fact that she had dated Lucky Spencer, not only did she know where most of them were, but she also had the skills to disarm the alarm systems. So, that's what she did. She and Cameron would trespass and then squat on the local mafia don's properties, putting to use the resources he so flippantly took for granted.

It wasn't perfect. The homes were impersonal, and she couldn't very well redecorate, especially on her budget. Eventually, after she had a chance to settle into one of the bungalows temporarily, managing to clean up her appearance and print out resumes at the library, she had gotten a job, but it wasn't enough to pay for all the bills, and, while Jason Morgan unknowing provided her and her little boy with a place to stay, free electricity, water, and heat, her paychecks took care of the food and their clothes, daycare costs, and, every now and again, managed to treat her three year old son to a train or two.

But Cameron was happy. He was healthy, and content, and, in their own way, they were a family, however unconventional and unique. And she loved her little boy more than anything else in the world. It wasn't much, but it was better than what some parents offered their children; it was more than her own parents had offered her, and no one had a right to criticize her or the job she had done raising her only child, because they had never been in her shoes, and they had no idea how hard it had truly been.

Satisfied that she had enough clothes to start again somewhere new, Elizabeth tossed the overflowing duffle bag by the back door, two other bags, one with her son's clothes and the other with various other personal effects, waiting there as well for her and their impending flight from relative, fleeting safety. All she had to do was grab Cam and his toys, and then they would leave, saying goodbye to yet another almost home. She knew that her son would be confused, that he'd cry for the first few nights, wanting to be back in his own bed, but, just as she always adjusted, so would he, and, in a few weeks' time, their old cabin would be a distant memory as they settled into another temporary home, one always belonging to the most feared man in town.

Calling out ahead of her as she quickly made her way down the short hallway towards her little boy's open bedroom door, the young mother asked, "honey, are you almost ready? It's time to…"

But her words trailed off as she looked at the sight before her. It was obvious to the brunette that her son had been in the middle of packing ALL his toys instead of just a few, not that that he had many to start with in the first place, when he had dropped his bucket of legos. It was his newest present, a gift he had received just a few days prior for getting such a good report from his playschool teacher at daycare, and her toddler refused to go anywhere, not even to the bathroom when it was time for his nightly bath, without the colorful, mini blocks. But, apparently, he had tripped when gathering up everything else, knocking the hundreds of legos over onto the bland, beige carpet, and he was currently, one by one, quietly, studiously, picking them up to place them back in the now empty bucket.

Sighing in frustration, Elizabeth scrambled after her little boy, picking him up against his will. "I'm sorry, Cameron," she apologized, feeling both a mixture of guilt and annoyance. She knew it wasn't his fault, that accidents happened, but they were essentially running from the mob, and they had no time for mistakes. Every second counted. Just one could be the difference from continuing on with their way or life or losing everything in a blink of an eye. If Jason Morgan ever found out what they were doing, how they were taking advantage of him, she feared for their lives. So far, she had always been one step ahead of the game. They had never gotten too comfortable, and they had never stayed in one place for too long. It was almost as if she had a sixth sense about when it was time to leave, but that instinct had failed her this time, and, thanks to the radio that had been playing at work, she had heard about the explosion that had taken out his apartment building and knew that those in the Morgan Organization would be hiding out for a few days as they licked their wounds, regrouped, and assessed the situation before they struck back.

"Drop the legos, Cam," the single mother ordered her little boy, finally prying the toys from his grasp. "You can't take them with you. We don't have time to clean up this mess."

Before the last sentence had even managed to find its way past her full, makeup free lips, the three year old was crying. No, not crying – he was screaming. Kicking his feet, thrashing about in her arms, and sobbing as loud as his little lungs would allow him, but she never attempted to calm him down. Not only would it be a waste of time when she had more important things to worry about, but she also felt that he deserved a good cry. In fact, she wouldn't have minded one herself in that moment, but it just wasn't possible.

Slinging his bag of toys over her shoulder, she moved towards the back door as rapidly as her son's frantic movements would allow her, pausing momentarily to lift and somehow manage to arrange the three other bags upon her person. But it was too late. All the effort, all the energy, all the trouble was for nothing when the very door she was standing before opened in front of her, swinging open slowly, warily as if the person behind the action was aware of her presence.

They weren't, though, that much was obvious when she saw who it was and what kind of 

shape he was in. It was the very man she had been stealing from for years, and Elizabeth found herself wondering just how he was still managing to stand erect. His entire body seemed to be injured – bruised and bleeding, burned and covered in dirt, grime, and soot. There was a deep wound on his forehead, one that would require stitches or otherwise it would scar. Even she knew that, and she was perhaps the most unknowledgeable person in the world when it came to medicine. The way he was clutching his ribs made her wonder if some of them were broken, and the awkwardly hanging left hand at his side told her that he had a dislocated shoulder and, perhaps, even a broken arm. He was in terrible shape, and that was just on the outside; she didn't want to consider what his internal injuries might be.

However, she couldn't worry about the battered mob boss in front of her. She had a son to take care of, he had to come first, but she was frozen inactive by fear and had no idea what to do next. She couldn't very well run away when bogged down by so much luggage and a suddenly rigid with tension and fright toddler in her arms, and, even hurt, it would have been impossible for her to get past the man standing in the doorway, the man who was staring at her with skepticism and astonishment written plainly across his pain filled face. Not to mention the fact that there were probably armed and dangerous guards just outside the safe house, and, unfortunately, she had played hooky that day in high school senior year when they had held a free self-defense course.

Taking a deep breath and choking back an anguished moan of panic, the waitress went to talk, tried to offer the crime lord an explanation, something that would buy her time and actually give her and, more importantly, her little boy a chance to live to see another day, but he beat her to the punch by simply asking, "who are you?"

"Elizabeth," she croaked out, swallowing thickly only to find her voice again. When she was nervous she rambled, and, when she rambled, she tended to forget herself and the situation. "I know this looks bad, but, if you would let me explain, I promise you that I meant you no harm. I'm just a single mom with no one to help her, and I needed a safe place for my little boy and I to stay, but, obviously, since this is your cabin, it was a pretty stupid idea to pick this house as our temporary residence, and I'm really sorry, Mr. Morgan, and I would say that I have learned my lesson and that I wouldn't do it again, but I refuse to make promises that I can't keep, not to you, not to myself, and certainly not to my little boy. Please, if you would just let us…"

He interrupted her. "You've been… you live here?"

Exhausted, she gave up any pretenses of actually being able to escape at that point, allowing the bags she was holding precariously in her arms to fall loudly to the floor. They smacked against the tile of the mudroom, some of the belongings falling out to litter the otherwise impeccably clean floors. While she might have been living in a place owned by the mob, she certainly took care of it by herself, taking pride in the fact that she could keep a house even if she wasn't actually in possession of it. Finally, after watching the man before her carefully, she put Cameron down, too, whispering to him to go to his room to pick up his legos. He ran off gratefully, eager to escape the awkward strain ever growing between the two adults and wanting to reclaim all his toys.  


Once they were alone, the young mother tilted her chin up in arrogance, attempting to and succeeding rather successfully at giving off an unrepentant air. "Yes, we live here."

"And do you cook?"

Shaking away the cobwebs currently littering her mind, Elizabeth blinked rapidly, completely thrown by the older man's inquiry, but, after regrouping herself, she replied, "adequately," even if that was a slight stretch of the word. She could make macaroni and cheese, she could heat up premade meals, and she could bake a wicked batch of brownies, but that was about it.

"Clean?"

Smartly, she snapped, "what does it look like? If I couldn't afford my own place and had to crash here, do you honestly think that I tossed money around on maid services?"

The injured don seemed to accept her acerbic comment, hobbling further into the house and, without giving her actual word, letting it be known that she was to follow. "And what about taking care of someone who's injured? You're a mom, so…"

"I can put a Band-Aid on."

"Blood?"

"Well, I don't like it, but I won't faint at the sight of it."

"Alright then," Jason Morgan announced, sliding down onto the couch with a pained groan. "You can stay... on one condition." Locking his sharp gaze with her own hesitant one, he added, "as long as you manage to keep me alive, I'll let you live as well."


	2. Chapter 2

**Safe… No More**

**Chapter Two  
FNF#11: I stuffed myself sick on your memory and the beautiful mess we'd made… but I'm so tired of being inspired only when things slip away. – Matt Nathanson's "First Time"**

Waking up was never her favorite thing to do, but, after a restless, dream filled night, it was even more unpleasant. But, like always, Elizabeth was prepared for the alarm to go off that morning. At least, she was mentally prepared for it. It didn't matter if she was wide awake and perfectly rested, her body would still startle and jump at the sound of the rousing bells peeling throughout her small, utilitarian bedroom, and, just like every morning, the clock going off beside her made her jolt in fright.

But she didn't get up right away. Exhausted, weary, and feeling quite sorry for herself, all the young mother wanted to do was wallow in self-pity the whole day, never once pushing the covers off her petite frame. However, she had responsibilities. There was Cameron who would be up soon as well, wanting his breakfast, and then there was also her job. She didn't get vacation days or sick days. If she was scheduled to work, she better be there or else, but that didn't stop her from groaning to herself as she struggled to find a firm grasp on consciousness.

After the night she had just endured, the very last thing she wanted to do was confront the day, but, unlike normal, she had a third obligation awaiting her – Jason. Like always, she had managed to land firmly with both feet in a mess too big to get out of easily, and, now, in order to temporarily avoid the inevitable, she was essentially being blackmailed into taking care of a wounded mobster. Surprisingly enough, though, it wasn't Mr. Morgan's occupation or even his injury that gave her the most pause, but, rather, the memories he brought up for her, memories he, apparently, didn't recall himself.

Pregnant and alone, she had done her best to grieve and move past Lucky's death. Although there would always be a part of Elizabeth that loved him, knowing that another life, someone who was innocent and pure, was depending upon her, growing inside of her, Lucky's child, had helped her push aside the depression she had wanted so badly to fall into and made her focus on taking care of herself. By the time Cameron arrived, her heart was by no means healed but it was whole enough to fall in love with her son at first sight, and, since then, she had never looked back.

Over the years, the love she had once felt for her high school sweetheart had been transferred onto the child they now shared, and becoming a mother had helped her recover from the loss of the one person who had loved her unconditionally. The dreams – more like nightmares - had slowly disappeared, and she began to live her life without being crippled by sudden flashes of memories revolving around Lucky. It wasn't perfect, there would always be moments when he would flicker into her mind and she would be temporarily distracted by sorrow, but, generally, she had adjusted to the father of her only child's death.  


… Or so she had thought.

Suddenly, without warning, Jason Morgan had come stumbling back into her life, and, with him, he brought her recollections that had been pushed aside and forgotten. The only former tie she had shared with the onetime enforcer and current mob boss was Lucky, so, seeing Jason, spending time with him, and having him seem completely oblivious to the fact that they were once, at least, acquaintances, had thrown her mind and heart for a loop, sending her crashing into a bevy of emotional baggage she, previously, had been unaware of even still having.

As she had closed her eyes the night before, the image of her deceased boyfriend's room above the bike shop burning down to nothing was there to greet her, and, after falling asleep, that memory had morphed into something else, something uglier, something grotesque and unreal. Somewhere lost between the healthy awareness of actuality and the bizarre, crippling fantasies of her dreams, Elizabeth had seen the only boy she had ever loved burnt to death at the boxcar instead – a place that was special to them and their relationship, and the very same place where Lucky had introduced her to Jason Morgan. Eventually, though, she became conscious of the fact that, instead of Lucky dying in the fire, it was the man sleeping out on the couch in the living room, and, for some reason, that thought was just as horrifying as losing Lucky all over again.

Back and forth her mind had taunted her during the past night, until, finally, she had managed to fall asleep soundly earlier that morning. So, as she climbed out from under the sheets and ambled her way crookedly towards the one bathroom occupying the safe house, yawning the entire journey, the single mother realized that she was operating under just a few hours of agitated rest. Her body felt drained, her mind was cloudy with anxiety and doubt, and her heart felt as if it was in physical pain.

To say that it was going to be a long day was a cruel and sick mockery of an understatement.

Working quickly, she washed her face, brushed her teeth, and got dressed for the day, slipping on a basic pair of black dress pants and a white blouse, the customary uniform for any waitress at The PC Grill. Although her wardrobe, because of work, was bland, it was also cost effective, and, at that point in her life, a veritable vagabond with a three year old son, her appearance was the least of her worries. She couldn't say that she felt refreshed or even ready for the day once she finished in the bathroom, but, ready or not, the day was quickly approaching, and it wouldn't wait for her, no matter how much she silently begged it to.

Another yawn snuck out of her slightly chapped lips as she made her way into her little boy's room, stepping carefully so as to avoid the legos spread out across the floor. But, when she reached Cameron's bedside and went to switch on his lamp, she froze with inaction, panic seizing her chest and twisting it with a brutal terror.

He wasn't there.

He wasn't anywhere in his room, in fact, and, for a split second, Elizabeth's feet were rooted to the floor with dread until her maternal instincts kicked in and she started to act out of sheer adrenaline. She searched his closet, peeked her head back into the bathroom, and then double checked her own room, just in case she had somehow missed hearing her own little boy come in to sleep with her the night before. After all, Cam did that sometimes. If he had a nightmare, he'd run to her side, and, instead of climbing into bed with her, he'd sometimes curl up on the floor beside her bed, not needing to wake her in order to feel reassured and comforted. But he wasn't there either, and the safe house and the woods surrounding it were absolutely too silent, in her opinion, frightening her even more.

She was just about out of the door, her feet bare and unconsciously left exposed to the natural elements, determined to find her three year old son, when a voice stopped her in her tracks, making her pivot around to confront it. The sight before her nearly made the brunette twenty-two year old collapse in relief, and the tears that had been threatening to spill over her wide, apprehensive eyes just second before checked themselves before she could further make a fool out of herself in front of the emotionless man holding her little boy.

"Looking for something?"

She just glared at him in response, but Jason seemed unfazed, perhaps even amused with her display of temper, and Cameron still refused to extricate himself from the don's arms. Her son was sitting on the couch with the mob boss, perfectly content and looking at home, despite the fact that, before the evening prior, he had never laid eyes upon the blonde.

"How did you not hear your own child get up this morning?"

The question made her bristle, and Elizabeth crossed the few steps separating her from the sofa. Without meeting the older man's gaze, she mumbled, "I had a bad night," and hoped that he would let the conversation drop there. But, of course, when she went to pick up Cam, he fought her, shaking his head no and pushing her hands away, determined to remain with his new friend. Whispering to the three year old, she reprimanded, "you're going to make Mommy late for work, so let's go. I need to get you dressed, and you can eat your breakfast on the way there."

She was expecting the injured crime lord to say little else now that she was attempting – and failing – to ignore him, so she was slightly taken aback when he announced, "Cameron's staying here with me."

Her astonishment turned to anger when, after several beats, she realized Jason was serious. Standing up straight, hands cocked in a challenging manner on her hips, the young mother observed him coolly through narrowed orbs of crackling cobalt. "Excuse me? I could have sworn that I just heard you tell me what my son's going to do, but I must be mistaken, because…"  


"You weren't."

"But I don't need you to watch him. Cameron goes to daycare when I work," she explained. After a deep breath, the waitress realized that the blonde might have been trying to be nice, trying to offer her free babysitting services since he would be there anyway. Although it was hard to bridge the gap between the feared, powerful persona the media presented him as and the injured, evidently kid-friendly man sitting before her, she tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. "He has friends there, I drop him off before I go to work and pick him up afterwards, so I don't need your help. Thank you anyway, but…"

Pronouncing his words slowly as if he believed she was having a difficult time comprehending him, the don stated unequivocally, "he stays here. With me."

"Just who do you think you are?"

"I'm the man who, apparently, has been providing you with free rent for quite a long time, so I really don't think you have a right to argue, Miss Webber."

"I don't care if I owe you my life, _Mr. Morgan_," she returned just as icily. "When it comes to my son, you have absolutely no say."

"I disagree, and, besides," Jason reasoned, turning to look at the three year old in question whose head was bobbing back and forth in a confused nature between the two bickering adults. "Cameron doesn't want to go with you today."

"Of course he does," the single mother contended, reaching, once again, for her son only to have her hands batted away for the second time. "He likes his teachers, and he'll miss his friends if he doesn't go." Appealing to her little boy for concurrence, she asked, "right, Cam?"

But he just looked up at her with his sweet, innocent, blue eyes, smiled widely, his dimples on display, and proudly declared, "Jason's my friend, Mama!"

"See," the mob boss defied her, smirking. "Two against one."

"Cameron," Elizabeth instructed the toddler. "Why don't you go into the kitchen and get some cereal for you and Mr. Morgan, okay?" Without word or argument, the three year old trotted out of the living room, leaving the two adults alone. Whirling around, once again, to face her adversary, the twenty-two year old snapped, "never do that to me again. Never," she threatened, "use my son to manipulate me, and, if you do, I promise you here and now that you will not like the consequences."

Shifting on the sofa, he returned, "I don't see what the big deal is. He wanted to stay here, I'm not going anywhere, obviously, and, with the guards, he's perfectly safe. I would think that you would want to do what's best for him, but what do I know? After all, you're the 

same woman who slept through her son waking up and going out to spend time with a stranger this morning, and you're also the same woman who can't provide for her kid properly, so she trespasses on private property and puts his life at risk every single day. What kind of mother are you?"

His words hurt more than she wanted to admit, and he didn't even know that he was striking back at her where she was the most vulnerable. Obviously, because he didn't remember her, Jason was unaware of her history, and, despite the fact that she could easily admit to herself that she hated the arrogant criminal, his words still stung her more severely than either of them could have imagined. Her greatest fear in life was letting her son down. She truly tried to be the best mother she possibly could under the less than favorable circumstances they were forced to endure, so hearing her ability to raise Cameron called in question had a crippling effect upon her, and she immediately backed down.

Turning away from the don, she hurriedly finished getting ready, slipping on her socks, shoes, and coat before willing her little boy to return with his breakfast so she could say goodbye to him. Despite Mr. Morgan's assurances that the three year old would be perfectly safe with him, Elizabeth knew that she would be a nervous wreck the entire day, fretful and distracted. However, the sooner she left, the sooner she would be able to return.

Finally Cameron came running back towards the couch with a box of cereal in his pudgy little hands, a smile illuminating his face the entire way. He dropped the food and came barreling into her arms as she kneeled down to give him a hug. Ignoring the man behind her who was watching their interaction closely, the waitress kissed her little boy goodbye, told him she loved him, and then promised to see him later. It wasn't until she was at the door to leave when Jason spoke up, his hostile, disdainful tone making her pause.

"Don't forget to pick up some medical supplies while you're out."

They had emptied the first aid kit the night before as she took care of him, and, knowing his bandages would need to be changed as soon as possible, he was right in ordering her to purchase the necessary goods. However, she hated his attitude, she hated the fact that he had leverage on her that could be used to order her around, and she hated that she had no course to fight back. Meekly obeying, she nodded her head sharply in agreement before slamming the door behind her.

Really, she just hated Jason Morgan, but, with his opinion of her mothering skills already so low, she wasn't going to lose her temper again that morning. All he needed was another piece of ammunition to use against her, and she refused to give it to him. If he wanted to make both of their lives miserable, well, two could certainly play that game, and it just so happened to be that she was an expert at that particular set of rules. When she was finished with the mob boss, he wouldn't even know what had hit him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Safe… No More**

**Chapter Three  
FNF#12: With a little help from our friends.**

When you were a squatter, living on the fringes of society, friends were a non-existent luxury. If people knew you, they avoided you, and, if they didn't, it was easier to hide the truth of your life from them, so you preferred the anonymity. For years, Elizabeth had survived that way, with her son as her only source of companionship. Her family had disowned her, Lucky's family had been too consumed with their own grief and the fact that their son's death tore apart their previously strong connection to worry about the girlfriend he had knocked up in high school, and even the few friends she had managed to make while a teenager turned away from her because of her less than acceptable condition. But, surprisingly, she really wasn't lonely.

Yes, she missed having someone to turn to when she had a bad day, and, at first, after Lucky's death, there had been too many bad days to count, but then Cameron had been born, she could no longer turn to her grief for comfort, and she broke through the never ending cycle of self-pity and sorrow. When she was sad, her little boy made her smile, when she had good news, as fleeting as those occurrences were, the only person she cared to share that news with was her son, and, when she was giddy with happiness, inevitably because of something Cam had done, who better to share that joy with than the toddler who gave it to her. However, she wasn't naïve enough to believe that she could survive on her own completely, and, for that reason and that reason alone, there was one connection she never severed after striking out on her own.

Bobbie Spencer, Lucky's aunt, owner of the diner Kelly's that Elizabeth had worked at during high school, and a respected nurse at General Hospital, was the only tie the young mother had left to her old life. She served as her liaison with her deceased boyfriend's family, offering them information and pictures of Cameron if they were so inclined, and, because she couldn't afford health insurance or medication, Bobbie also helped Elizabeth when the little boy who bonded them together for life was sick. Even though she didn't know how the waitress was able to support her only child, she didn't ask questions either and would help Elizabeth in any way she possibly could, so that was why she really hated being forced to take advantage of her.

Stepping in through the automatic doors of the emergency room, the pretty yet perpetually exhausted brunette shuddered involuntarily as she felt the cool, antiseptic, climate controlled air of the hospital surround her. She hated medical facilities. Inevitably, they always reminded her of three things that were best left forgotten: her family, the disappointment they felt where she was concerned, and death. Despite the fact that she knew it was irrational to only see the hospital as a place where people went to pass away, for the doctors and nurses there saved thousands of lives every year, she couldn't help it, and it sent a chill through her already cold and clammy body.

Walking up to the front desk, she waited patiently for the harried nursing student to finish with the patient she was, at the moment, attempting to help, biding her time. When it was her turn to be seen to, Elizabeth was short and succinct, to the point, efficient. She wanted to get in and get out as quickly as possible… before someone unfavorable spotted her there in the _hallowed_ halls of General Hospital.

"Can you page Bobbie Spencer for me, please."  


The pretty yet naïve blonde seemed to appreciate her brevity, and she went immediately to her new task, paging the supervisor. Hanging up the phone, she turned towards the twenty-two year old. "She's with a patient right now, but it should only take a few more minutes. If you would want to take a seat while you wait, I'll make sure I point you out to her."

"Thank you," she replied, tipping her head in recognition and appreciation, and, with nothing else said, she proceeded to follow the younger woman's advice and moved towards the hard, plastic, hideously bright chairs that constituted the emergency room waiting area.

There were magazines scattered across the utilitarian, pale wood coffee table, but, really, she had no interest in reading them. The lives of celebrities held absolutely no fascination for her, and Elizabeth would have been surprised if she even recalled half of their names. Fashion was just a seven letter word to her; it had no other meaning, and anything else the shiny, glossy publications had to offer – sports news, political insights, and auto trends – were superfluous to her and her unconventional lifestyle. She was about to call it a lost cause and sit back in her seat when a solitary children's magazine caught her eye, and she picked it up, hoping the puzzle search had yet to be completed. Flipping through the pages, she eventually found it mark free, and, excited for the first time in days, she curled up in her chair, eager to seek out the hidden, inanimate objects.

"Really, Elizabeth," an older, wiser, but, nevertheless, condescending voice questioned from behind her. "Highlights?" Tsking regretfully beneath her breath, Audrey continued, making her granddaughter grit her teeth in frustration. "Are you ever going to grow up?"

Slowly, she unfurled her legs, closed the magazine, and placed it delicately back on the table, her actions measured and controlled. Hiding her irritation with being discovered at the hospital by her grandmother, the single mother turned around to face the only blood relative she still had living in Port Charles, seemingly perfectly composed. However, she never got the chance to say anything, for the elderly nurse was already tearing into her.

"And just why exactly are you here? Obviously, it's not for your child, because he's not here with you, and, besides," the silver haired matriarch dismissed, "I highly doubt you would be able to bring him _here_. You probably are forced to seek medical help at the free clinic down by the docks. What a dismal place it is, too. Now, I've never been there myself, obviously, but I once took a wrong turn looking for a new restaurant and ended up down in the warehouse district, passing by…"

She knew that her grandmother was well aware of her son's name, and, even though Audrey had absolutely no association with her little boy, it made her angry that she refused to call him by his given moniker, instead preferring to demean him by referring to him as _your child_, as if Cameron didn't deserve the older woman's awareness to his existence. "He has a name, you know," the brunette pointed out frigidly, interrupting the senior nurse mid-sentence.

"Trust me, Elizabeth, I'm well aware of your child's name. Not only did you embarrass our family by getting pregnant in the first place and refusing to give the child up, but you then proceeded to name him something that had absolutely no connection to the Webber-Hardy family, insulting your heritage once again."

"Excuse me for naming _my _little boy something that _I _liked. My mistake," the waitress replied sarcastically, "for thinking that, as his mother, I had the right to determine that he wouldn't have to grow up in the shadows of his grandfather's or his great-grandfather's 

name. Besides, how was I to know that you wanted _my bastard_ named after your wonderful, scrupulous, beloved husband, seeing as how you kicked me out of your house when you found out I was pregnant and then proceeded to cut all ties with me. I guess that's just another way, though, that I'm a disappointment to you. Sorry that I wasn't psychic."

"He was the first great-grandchild," Audrey retorted, lowering her voice to a whisper. The rapid descent of her tone informed her granddaughter that the older woman was, now, just as angry as she herself was. "You had a responsibility to the family, to your…"

"Tell me, _Grams_, what's your great-grandson's favorite toy? What color are his eyes? When he gets tired and is ready for bed, does he like me to tell him a bedtime story or does he prefer for me to sing him lullabies?" The Webber-Hardy matriarch remained silent in response. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

Tilting her chin up in defiance, her grandmother met her accusing gaze glare for glare. "You still haven't informed me as to why you are here – at General Hospital. I thought you hated this place."

"I do," Elizabeth returned, smirking, "but it's more the people who work here that I have a problem with than the actual institution. Imagine that."

Without provocation, Audrey's face became pale, and she took a step back, one frail, delicate hand lifting to hover nervously, precariously over her lips as they trembled apart for her to speak. "Tell me you're not."

"Not what?"

"The last time I saw you here, you were pregnant. I can't believe that you would go out and make that same mistake twice, Elizabeth! What is wrong with you? How did your parents - how did I - end up raising such a disrespectful, ungrateful _whore _of a granddaughter?"

Seeing Bobbie walking towards her, the young mother smiled, ready to go in for the kill. "I don't know, Grams, but maybe you should put those stones away before they break your glass castle in the sky. From where I'm standing, it looks like the apple – me – didn't fall too far away from you, the tree. Have a _great_day."

And, with that, she quickly escaped the older, prying woman's snares, crossing the emergency room until she was standing by the concerned redhead who had been paged to come see her. Despite the fact that she had managed to hold her own and maintain her composure while still in front of Audrey, Elizabeth felt the walls of the hospital slowly closing in around her. Her breathing was ragged, and she felt dizzy, and she hated the fact that, after nearly four years, her grandmother still had the power to cut and hurt her so badly. First Jason that morning, and now her own family…

"Come with me," Bobbie insisted, wrapping a maternal arm around the waitress' shoulders and pulling her into an unoccupied cubicle. Once they were alone, the nurse helped ease her down onto the exam table. "Are you alright?"

"Me," the twenty-two year old questioned, sounding much shakier than she wanted to be. "I'm perfect, well aside from the fact that, according to my grandmother, I'm knocked up again. Imagine that. Little old, tainted, shunned me somehow managed to immaculately conceive. I guess miracles really do still 

exist."

"So, obviously you're not alright," Bobbie realized for herself, frowning. "Wait here. I'm going to go get you something to drink. Will you be okay on your own for a few minutes?"

Suddenly, her throat constricted, and she knew she wouldn't be able to manage a single word even if her life – and it basically did – depended upon it. This was the perfect opportunity, and, if she was going to get the supplies she needed to take care of Jason, holding up her end of their bargain, then she needed to reassure Bobbie enough so that the redhead would leave her alone for several minutes while she went to rummage her up a bottle of water. So, unable to talk, she simply nodded her head, attempting to mold her face into some kind of encouraging mask.

It seemed to work, because, with one last sympathetic glance, the nursing supervisor left, closing the curtain again after she departed, providing Elizabeth with the solitary privacy she needed. Jumping down off the table, she composed herself enough to raid the medicine cabinets, thankful that GH didn't keep their meds locked up. Not knowing exactly what or how much Jason would need, she grabbed a little bit of everything, hoping he had more of a clue when it came to medicine than she did. Then she grabbed bandages and tape, stuffing them all in her oversized bag before reclaiming her former position on the table and waiting for Bobbie to return which just so happened to occur seconds later.

"Well, it's not Evian, but it'll do the trick," her only friendly adult acquaintance remarked as she slipped back into the cubicle, handing Elizabeth a bottle of generic, off brand water. "Sorry I couldn't find anything better, but it's either water or coffee around here, and I highly doubt you've changed that much since you were a teenager that you would accept a cup of java."

Smiling at the older woman's kindness… even if she didn't feel as if it were deserved in that moment, seeing as how she had just taken advantage of their relationship and used it to steal from the very place that employed Lucky's aunt, Elizabeth responded, "no, you're right. I still don't drink coffee. Hate the smell of it, in fact."

"What about Cameron? Does he mind it?"

Confused, since her little boy was only three, the petite brunette asked, "what do you mean?"

"Even when he was Cam's age, Lucky would drink coffee," Bobbie shared. "He would go around and finish the last few sips of Luke and Laura's cups, whether the coffee was scalding hot or cold and hard. I guess I just wondered if his son was the same way."

It was odd for her to have a conversation with someone who recognized and accepted the fact that Cameron was Lucky's child, too. After their son's death, Luke had turned into himself, drowning his sorrows in scotch, and Laura had lost her mind, even going so far as to having herself committed less than six months after the fire. Leslie raised Lulu, Nikolas went back to Greece, and it was Bobbie who was forced to hold the Spencers together to the best of her ability. Really, she failed at doing so, but she never gave up and was still trying to bring the practically destroyed family back to life. However, for Elizabeth, that part of her life was in the past, and she had truly moved on, getting through Lucky's death to the best of her ability, and it was odd for her when Bobbie became so nostalgic.

"I have to go," she announced without warning, standing up.  


"But you just got here, and you still haven't told me what you needed. Is something wrong with Cameron?"

"No," the single mother was quick to reassure the redhead. "Cam's… well, he's perfect."

"All mothers think that about their little boys," Bobbie shared conspiratorially with a wink.

Elizabeth grinned, somewhat stiffly, in return. "Anyway, I just need to get going. I need to get back to Cameron, and I'm already running late. Sorry about wasting your time, but, really, it was nothing important. I just wanted to… check in with you, let you know that Cameron and I are okay."

"Well, I appreciate it," her friend admitted, pulling the younger woman into a hug. Although she returned the gesture, she felt awkward, quickly ending the affectionate embrace and practically running out of the hospital.

Agreeing to work with Jason Morgan, conceding to his terms, Elizabeth realized that she truly had made a deal with the devil. After all, look at what she had already done for him, and they had been back in each others' lives for less than twenty-four hours at that point.


	4. Chapter 4

**Safe… No More**

**Chapter Four  
FNF#13: He said he'd give me everything I'd need.**

Elizabeth's favorite time of the day was bath time – not her own, no matter how relaxing a long, hot shower could be after a hectic work schedule, but her son's, for it was during his bath time that he was the most playful, the most talkative, eager to share with her the seemingly insignificant details of his existence that only a toddler could make sound more important than life itself. And it was their ritual, too.

Every night, after dinner, the young, single mother would help her son into the bath, washing his hair and supervising his playtime while he rambled on and on, a trait he most certainly inherited from her, about anything and everything he could think of. It was during those baths that Cameron smiled the most, and Elizabeth could almost forget about the various pressures weighing down upon her narrow, often overloaded shoulders and simply be in the moment with her little boy. And, despite the fact that they were no longer on their own as was their custom, she was determined to distance Jason Morgan from her mind, banishing him to the realms of her consciousness that she could easily ignore while focusing on her only child.

However, Cam did not share her opinion, nor was he as disciplined when it came to disregarding his impulses and thoughts.

"Mama," he addressed her, lifting his innocent blue eyes up to lock with her own strikingly similar orbs. The little sneak knew it was the best way to reel her in, and his sweet demeanor and endearing tone never failed to soften her towards the three year old even more than usual. Once her attention was solely placed upon him, he continued, "I like Jason."

"I know you do, Cam," the waitress admitted, not liking her son's confession but doing her best to accept what she couldn't very well change without hurting her little boy, and that was definitely something she was not willing to do no matter what. "But I think that you should call him Mr. Morgan. Do you remember what I told you about respecting your elders?"

"Do you?"

"Do I what, Sweetie?"

"Like him?"

Elizabeth wrinkled her brow in thought, perplexed as to how to answer her only child's question. While it would have been so easy for her to tell him the truth, to lash out and let loose her animosity towards the mafia don, she knew that Cameron didn't need her hostility or anger, but, at the same time, she certainly didn't want to lie to her son either. If there 

was one thing she prided herself upon, it was her relationship with the toddler. Theirs was one based upon both love and respect, trust and guidance, and the young mother refused to allow anyone to come between her and her little boy… even if that person was Jason Morgan.

Finally, she responded, "well, I really don't know him that well, Cam."

"He's nice," the three year old retorted confidently. Expanding upon his statement and explaining it as only a child could, he said, "he has a motorcycle."

She quirked a finely shaped brow. "He told you about that?" Cameron nodded his head exuberantly. "What else did you and Mr. Morgan talk about?"

Before her little boy had a chance to respond, a third voice entered into their conversation, making the brunette jump in alarm. "You could just ask him yourself," Jason snapped gruffly, "instead of avoiding me… and your promise."

"I will take care of you _after _I take care of my son. Besides," the waitress remarked dryly, "you're a big boy. If you were capable of taking care of my very energetic three year old today, I'm sure you're capable of waiting for a little while longer."

Glancing out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth watched as the mob boss awkwardly stood in the open doorway of the bathroom, his weary, obviously injured body propped up against the jam. Despite the fact that she had bandaged and cleaned his wounds to the best of her ability the night before, there were spots of seepage along his loose fitting t-shirt and sweatpants, and she didn't even want to contemplate just how complicated their arrangement would become if his burns became infected. Despite her concern, though, she refused to rush her little boy's bath, needing just a few more minutes of respite before dealing with the 180 pounds of trouble that had landed on her borrowed doorstep a day prior.

Returning to the task at hand, she rinsed the shampoo out of Cameron's hair, smiling demurely to herself as she watched the toddler play on, completely unaware of the escalating tension mounting between the two adults. She was glad for his obliviousness. After all, as far as she was concerned, the less her son was affected by their present situation with the crime lord, the better. By the time her favor towards Jason was paid off, Elizabeth sincerely hoped that the blonde was no more an influence in her three year old's life than any other passing stranger, that Cam would be able to forget about his time spent with the don and move on relatively unfazed and unaffected.

"He likes motorcycles, you know," Morgan told her, speaking up again from his voyeuristic position just outside the bathroom in the hall. "You should get him a couple toy ones."

"Yeah," she snorted, rolling her eyes as she lifted her son out of the tub and started to dry him off with his terry cloth bath towel. "I'll get right on that. Thanks for the advice."

Her annoyance evidently registered with the known and legendary criminal for he pushed himself away from the door and strode back towards the living room, leaving the petite brunette alone with her only child once again. However, the moment had already been ruined, and she found herself wondering if the local head of the mafia was that naïve when it came to her circumstances.

Although he had already made it quite clear that he did not remember her from their brief run in and introduction years before, she also now had to assume that he had been unable to send him men on an errand to do a background check on her, meaning he had no idea what she and Cameron had been through since his conception, meaning he had no knowledge of just how much his comments from earlier that morning had hurt her. Though it certainly didn't excuse his barbaric behavior, in Elizabeth's eyes, it certainly put a different spin on the crime boss' surly behavior, and she had to wonder if there was more to his story as well.

Shaking her thoughts off, she finished helping Cam get dressed for bed, tucked him in, and then returned to the main portion of the house, determined to see to Jason Morgan as quickly and as efficiently as possible. If nothing else, she would live up to her end of their bargain, and, hopefully, do so in the most timely of fashions, getting him out of her life and far away from her and her son as soon as possible. Once their association was over, if she never saw him again for the rest of her life, she would be a very happy woman.

"What's this?"

Looking up from the ground where her gaze had been rooted while she walked, deep in thought the entire time, back into the living room, the single mother was confronted with one very angry mob lord. "What," she questioned, her confusion both blatant and honest in regards to his animosity. "What did I do now?"

Tossing the bag of supplies she had purloined from the hospital down onto the coffee table, Jason exploded, fists fairly trembling in ire at his sides. "Why does all the stuff you brought back for me say 'Property of General Hospital?'"

"Because it was."

"So, you stole this?"

"How else did you expect me to get my hands on antibiotics and burn supplies," Elizabeth asked rhetorically, matching him glare for glare. "I don't have health insurance, and I certainly don't have the spare cash sitting around to buy these things legally. As for the free clinic, it was out of the question, because they wouldn't give me anything if I didn't present with the injuries myself, and I certainly wasn't going to give myself second degree burns in order to get you your supplies. Look," the waitress excused herself, tilting her chin up haughtily in defiance. "I did what I needed to do. I didn't get caught, no one got hurt, and, because of what I did, we'll have you better than ever in a couple weeks' time, so shut up, quit complaining, and let me take care of you."  


However, he did not seem ready to back down. "Why didn't you come to me, ask me for help? You know that I have unlimited resources."

"Oh, you mean after you insulted my mothering skills, undermined me in front of my son, and made me worry all damn day long that, when I got back from work and running _your _errands, my little boy wouldn't even be here anymore because you decided to use him as leverage against me? Yeah, I'm sorry, but, for some ungodly reason, I guess asking you for help this morning completely slipped my mind. My bad."

Hesitantly, the underworld leader admitted, "maybe I was slightly out of line earlier."

"You think?"

Gritting his teeth in frustration towards the brunette's lack of respect and displeasure, Jason pressed on, "but that does not give you an excuse to risk your own freedom. What would have happened to your son if you would have gotten caught?"

"Perhaps that's something you should have thought about before you blackmailed me into helping you," she retorted, flushed with righteous indignation and anger.

"The same could be said for you, Miss Webber," the mob boss returned. "Perhaps you should have thought about the consequences of squatting in one of my houses before you took advantage of me. And, just for the record," he added, fairly spitting out his words at that point, "I don't use children as leverage."

"Well, aren't you a saint."

It was a standoff between them. Both breathing heavy and barely containing their fury, their voices lethally low both due to the intense hatred shared between them and their mutual desire to keep Cameron sheltered from their differences, the two temporary roommates stood toe to toe, glowering at each other until, finally, Elizabeth took a step back, grabbed the medical supplies, and stomped off into the bathroom. Calling over her shoulder, she asked, "so, do you want me to clean and dress your burns or not?"

Resentfully but, yet, still in a timely manner, the crime lord followed her into the other room, eventually coming to rest before the sink and bracing his hands against the countertop with his back towards the mirror. Setting to work immediately, the young, single mother, instead of forcing the don to remove his shirt, cut the material off of him, realizing the movement it would have required for him to lift his arms above his head would have done more harm than good. She worked quickly, focusing on his chest and abdomen first, applying a salve and then covering the oozing wounds with fresh, sterile bandages in the hopes that her actions and his cooperation would keep the infection at bay.

"Just to let you know," she informed her adversary. "Cameron will not be staying here with you tomorrow."  


"That's ridiculous. Why not?"

"I don't know you, I don't trust you, and I certainly don't trust your men," the waitress informed him. "I don't care what you say, I'm his mother, and I think he would be safer and better off at daycare… where he's supposed to be. He has friends there, teachers who care about him, and I do not want my little boy getting emotionally attached to some criminal that will either leave his life as soon as it's convenient for him or die because of the violence that surrounds his lifestyle."

"That's a little hypocritical of you, don't you think, Webber?"

Meeting the blonde's eyes in the mirror, Elizabeth queried, "what do you mean?"

"You stand there, calling me a criminal, while claiming that I'm a threat to your son, and, the whole time, you're just as much of a criminal as I am."

"Oh, I beg to differ," she argued, making Jason grimace when she ripped his old bandages off a little more harshly than necessary. "There's a big difference between squatting and racketeering. What I do doesn't involve violence. No one has lost their life nor will they because I break into your safe houses and use them without permission."

"But you're still a criminal, and, through your actions, you're teaching your very impressionable son that, as long as you benefit, it's okay to do the wrong thing."

Sick and tired of the head of the Port Charles mafia passing judgment upon her, Elizabeth smiled softly, mischievously to herself. While the man beside her waited for her response, she carefully cleaned up her supplies, fully knowing that she wasn't even halfway done with taking care of the kingpin. She put the lid back on the burn ointment, put the extra bandages away, and washed her hands – both literally and figuratively – of the duties she was being forced to endure.

"If that's honestly what you think of me, if I'm that evil of a person, then I guess you won't be surprised by what I'm going to do next." Turning on her heels, the waitress made her way out of the bathroom, speaking over her shoulder to her bewildered mock-patient. "Take care of yourself, asshole, or, better yet, don't. I've done enough that you should be able to sleep on your stomach all night in only partial misery. If you'll excuse me, I'm taking my morally corrupt and criminal self to bed. Seeing as how I only do things that benefit me, I really don't see why I should have to take care of you any longer. As far as I'm concerned, me letting you suffer, perhaps even standing by while you get an infection, could kill you, and, with you out of my life, I'd definitely be much happier.

"Bad mother or not, who are you to judge me? You're not a parent, you have no idea what I've been through or what I will have to go through in the future, and you're a cold blooded killer who is putting not only my life but, more importantly, my three year old son's life in danger simply because you're pissed off that you got taken advantage of. Grow up, and 

stay the hell away from me."

Marching away, her fear and animosity making her back so stiff and rigid it was almost painful, Elizabeth never looked back at the man she left behind her. If she would have, she would have seen the flash of pain that went through his bright, guarded blue eyes, but, in all likelihood, at that point, she wouldn't have cared. After all, there were some things even she couldn't forgive.


	5. Chapter 5

**Safe… No More**

**Chapter Five  
FNF#14: How lucky I am to have known someone who was so hard to say goodbye to.**

She did not have time for this.

Already running late, Elizabeth shifted her position in the cramped, damp phone booth once again, trying in vain to find a comfortable way to stand. It was impossible, though, especially with so many bags crowded around her feet and weighing down her arms, but that's what she got for attempting to run all of Jason Morgan's errands during her lunch break.

It wasn't as though she typically ate during the forty-five minutes allotted to her. The restaurant's prices were too steep, even with her employee discount, and it was just that much easier to eat her paltry, little meals at home where no one – not her boss or her nosy coworkers – could see just what exactly she actually managed to subsist on. Usually, she found a spare piece of paper and sketched the time away, or she would sit out back on the loading dock, simply enjoying the fresh air that came from being outside. However, as she had been reminded of so succinctly that morning, her free time was no longer her own; rather, the don of Port Charles owned it, and he had demanded just a _few_, _measly_ things from her.

First and foremost, the mob boss had requested food. According to the blonde, her cupboards were far too bare, and there was no way he was going to live on peanut butter and jelly on white bread and ramen noodles. He needed protein, he needed fresh fruits and vegetables, and he needed beer. Most of all, in Elizabeth's opinion, what he really needed was a swift kick to the ass in order to get him back to reality.

She couldn't afford the things he demanded she buy for him, and the bags of food littered around her proved just that. She had dipped into her precious yet paltry savings in order to purchase what she had, and even that she knew Jason would complain about. Instead of cheap, prepackaged noodles, she had purchased canned soup, and, instead of white bread, she had bought the onetime enforcer wheat. Trading in the peanut butter and jelly, she had splurged for some cheap lunch meat, but, if her former unknowing benefactor and now forced roommate wanted anything better, he was just going to have to find someone else to buy his groceries for him.

Secondly, he ordered her to place some calls for him, only after discovering that she was perhaps, as he had so callously put it, the only person left in the western world without a cell phone. The crime lord was in desperate need of regrouping his men, and he would only be able to do so with her help. So, that was how the single mother of one found herself trapped in a claustrophobic phone booth, working her way quite rapidly through a list of unnamed and unlisted numbers. They were the work lines for several of Jason's most trusted guards, and, once she got in touch with one, she was to inform them of their boss' current predicament, his location, and provided them with new and imperative instructions.

It had taken five attempts, but, finally, she had reached someone. A Max, she had learned within the first thirty seconds of their conversation, and, since that point, the young waitress had been hard pressed to get a word in edgewise. Apparently, not everyone in the mob was as stoic and silent as the great and all powerful Jason Morgan, and, even though she could appreciate a good rambling kindred spirit when she met one, her break was not the proper time to becomes besties with the sweet yet almost naïve sounding security expert.

"Listen, Mr. Giambetti…"

"Aw, Miss E.," the guard objected, interrupting her before she could even get a question or statement out of her parted yet apparently useless lips. "I thought we already went over this. There's no need for formalities with me. I'm just a glorified driver, after all."

"Who acts as a human bullet shield on the side, I know," she retorted, rolling her blue eyes in the process.

"Well, that's certainly one way to put it." And the man chuckled. Chuckled!

Tapping her foot agitatedly, she rushed on to say, "There are some messages Mr. Morgan requested that I pass on to you." If she didn't say what she needed to say and say it immediately, there would be no way she would be able to squeak in a visit to the library before heading back to work, and, because the library closed before her shift was over, there was no way she could not get there that afternoon, because returning to the safe house without the demanded supplies was not something she planned on doing.

"Of course," Max agreed readily. "I'm all ears." Before she could even respond, he backtracked. "Well, not really. My brother Milo is the one who actually has big ears. Mine, I think, are well proportioned. You know, if you had a cell phone, I would forward a picture of myself to you, and then you'd be able to see for yourself. But, since you don't, I guess you could just ask the boss. He'd be able to tell you. I think. Probably. I mean, surely Jason would be able to. He notices everything, even things we guys don't want him to, so, yeah, he'd be an alright judge on the size of my ears."

"Or I could see them for myself when you come out to the safe house," Elizabeth suggested, just about at her wit's end. "That's one of the things your employer wanted me to pass along to you. After you do a complete and thorough examination of the organization, he wants you to discreetly report back to him."

"Where at," the bodyguard asked, "because, let me tell you, we have more than just a few hidden residences in and around town."

Under her breath, the twenty-two year old quipped, "don't I know it."

"What was that, Miss W.?"

"Nothing," she swiftly denied. "Anyway, as for the location, you're supposed to get in contact with a Mr. O'Brien. He was the man with Mr. Morgan when the towers were attacked, the one who helped him to his current location, and he's been instructed to keep his phone on at all times, despite the fact that your boss sent him out of town on some kind of mission."

The guard sounded perplexed. "Johnny left Port Charles? On Jason's orders? Did they have a lead? They must have had a lead."

"I have no idea."

"Well, of course you don't," Max practically cooed back at her. "Mr. Morgan would never allow a woman to be involved in business."

Despite the fact that she was running late, and despite the fact that she just really did not want to care, that got a rise out of her. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean, Mr. Giambetti?"

"Enough with that Mr. stuff," he protested. "I'm not anyone special. As for you being kept in the dark, that's just how it has to be. It's nothing against you, for I'm sure you're a really sweet, pretty lady, but rules are rules. I'm just surprised that you've been brought in this much. The boss must be in bad shape if he actually allowed you to make phone calls for him. Hey," the security expert sidetracked, "how exactly did you get pulled into all this anyway? You never really did say."

"Sorry, gotta run. Talk to you later."

And with that, despite the man's protests on the other line, Elizabeth hung up, finally breathing a sigh of relief. All she had to do now was check out a book or two for the mafia don she was currently, unhappily being coerced into living with, and then she'd have her errands completed, hopefully in time to return to work without getting docked pay for being late. She needed all the money she could get her hands on, especially since she didn't know when or how soon it would be until she and, more importantly, her little boy would be homeless once again, and, with the way Jason Morgan was currently spending her money for her so easily, instead of tucking away everything she was currently making, it just seemed to disappear into thin air all the more quickly.

-

She was officially late, and, even if she managed to avoid the wrath of her manager, there was always the chance she could run into one of the restaurants owners. For some reason, despite their obvious and much gossiped about wealth, the busybodies were always underfoot, lurking, watching, just waiting for her or anyone else to mess up, and, for the first time since she had been hired on at the establishment, Elizabeth had done just that.

She had decided to just get Mr. Morgan one travel book, for, really, how much would one practically silent mob boss really read. As she speed walked through the library, of course his requested section would have to be on the top floor along the furthest side of the public building, the waitress realized that the goon probably just wanted a thick volume or two for weight lifting and not actually for entertainment or education value, so she had opted for just one book, its considerable thicknesses, no doubt, capable of keeping the crime lord occupied for a good five to six years.

Of course, she also couldn't restrain herself from poking fun of the man either. While she might have been forced to grow up and become mature overnight the day she found out she was pregnant, that did not mean that the young mother completely lacked a sense of humor, and she found it fitting that she should be taking back to Mr. Morgan a detailed travel guide to none other than the storied island of Sicily, the birthplace to men of his kind. Whether or not the blonde would appreciate her wit or even understand it, she cared not at all, for she had been amused, and, really, what more could a woman ask for?

"I do hope you realize this will be going on your permanent record."

The deep, displeased voice seemed to jump out at her from nowhere, and it made Elizabeth first startle in fright and then freeze in tense uncertainty. Of all the people to see her sneaking back into the staff locker room late, it would just have to be _him. _

Pivoting around on her heel, hands wringing in both distress and obvious apprehension, the twenty-two year old was quick to apologize. "I'm so sorry, Mr…"

"Save it," the grouchy old man bellowed, demanded. "I'm not interested in your empty platitudes. You were four minutes late, and that's four more minutes than what is excusable. I want you to know, Miss, that I will not only be putting this in your file, but I will also be docking your pay a half an hour's worth of wages and that you will staying after, without pay, to make up your lapsed time. Do I make myself clear?"

Bowing her head in acquiesce, the young mother whispered, "yes, sir."

"Good," her boss barked. "And it better not happen again, though I must say that it doesn't surprise me. A girl like you… a girl who would get herself in the family way when she was still just a child herself, I should have known better than to hire you. But, no," he dragged the word out, emphasizing it, as he waved his pudgy hands dramatically in the air. "My lawyer told me I couldn't discriminate against you simply because you were a promiscuous jezebel, but that's what I get for hiring family, the impudent, over-indulged bunch of back stabbers, the entire lot of them!"

"Of course, Mr. Quartermaine," the single mother agreed readily. At that point, she would have agreed with anything the old curmudgeon said, just so long as she was able to keep her job. "If you'll excuse me, I need to get back to work."

"Damn straight you do," he offered her as his parting shot. "And if I ever catch you coming back in late from your break again…"

The threat hung suspended between them, for neither Elizabeth nor her boss needed it to filled in or completed. Edward's point was abundantly, pointedly clear.

-

"I'm so sorry I'm late," Elizabeth expressed her regret as soon as she stepped into her son's daycare center. "I had errands to run during my break, so I got back late to the hotel, and then my boss made me work over in order to make up my time. I got here as soon as I could, but…"

"It's okay," one of Cameron's teachers assured her, laughing softly at the harried brunette's rushed words. "It's not a problem. In fact, your brother already picked Cam up for you."

She became rigid with fear. "My brother?"

"Yes, he was such a wonderful gentleman." If she didn't know better, the waitress would have sworn that the childcare provider blushed. "And it was obvious that your son adores him."

"So, Cameron knew him?"

"Well, not at first," the teacher admitted, sounding confused by both the situation and Elizabeth's questions, "but Mr. Webber explained to me that it's been a long time since he's seen his nephew."

"Mr. Webber?"

"Why, yes," the older lady enthused. "He showed me his ID."

"But I have it expressly stated that no one other than myself is to pick Cam up from daycare."

"I understand, Miss Webber," the teacher agreed, "but this was a special occasion with extenuating circumstances. Besides, your brother had a note from you, so I really don't see why you're making such a big deal out of this… or why you're even here. Did you forget that Mr. Webber was picking Cam up?"

"Yes, that's it," the twenty-two year old bit out through her clenched teeth. "I simply allowed the welfare of my only child, my three year old son, to completely slip my mind. Silly me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go and make sure that my little boy is alright, that he's safe, that he's even still alive, no thanks to your incompetence."

Turning to leave the building, there was one thought solely running through her mind: Jason Morgan was a dead man.


	6. Chapter 6

**Safe… No More**

**Chapter Six  
FNF#15: [image – a sea monster emerging from the ocean, pierced by a lightning bolt and holding a trident]**

It was storming outside.

While not the strangest of weather phenomena, it certainly wasn't a common occurrence during the late winter. But it seemed appropriate; it seemed to represent all the warring emotions currently plaguing the otherwise stoic, unflappable, detached mob boss. Unfortunately, though, he was more concerned with what was taking place inside of himself than he was with the thunder and the lightning and the chilling rain that pelted the outside world. From the storm itself, he was removed.

For so long, he had lived his life alone. Yes, the guards were constantly around, but they were only there because of the job. Jason didn't disillusion himself and believe that they were there out of a loyalty to him or out of some misconceived friendship. He paid well, his benefits were amazing, and the vacation amenities his organization afforded those who worked for him were nothing to balk at. Those three things were the only reasons his employees risked their lives day in and day out for his welfare, and those three reasons were the only ones he wanted them to have. After all, sentimentality and feelings were things that did not belong in the underworld he populated. Jason had learned that the hard way.

But, now, after so many self-made promises and determined oaths, here he was, for the time being, living with civilians and unable to remain completely disconnected from them. While he could blame his inability to not care on the fact that he had always enjoyed the company of children, it was more than that. Elizabeth Webber was certainly no child, a fact he was very much aware of, but, yet, he found himself constantly angry with her, an emotion even if it was a less than favorable one.

And that particular evening proved no different. Despite trying to ignore her necessary presence in his life, he couldn't. In fact, he had sent Max running all over town because all he could do as he remained cooped up in the safe house was think of his current nurse and her little boy. Because he felt contrite for pushing her to steal from the hospital, he wanted to somehow help her out, but the fact remained that, for the time being, he could do nothing of a financial nature. The available cash he kept on hand was now long gone and turned to ash with everything else he owned and kept at his penthouse, and, if he wanted to remain in the shadows, carefully healing while planning his revenge, there was no way he could access his accounts without setting off red flags for his enemies. So, that meant that Elizabeth would have to provide for them, despite her meager wages, and there was nothing Jason could do to alter the fact.

In an effort to help her out, though, he had insisted that Max find her son's daycare and pick him up. Because he had sent the woman on errands for him that day, he knew she would be running late, and the last thing Cameron needed was to be left waiting while his mother took care of someone else. Besides, he still didn't understand why the damned woman refused to allow him to watch her little boy when he was perfectly capable and just itching for a distraction from the otherwise dull and ineffective days that would stretch before him for the next several weeks. The woman was entirely too stubborn, too proud, especially given her circumstances, and everything she did annoyed the mob boss.

Then, to compound the problem, his annoyance with her made him angry all over again, and he seemed to take that anger out on the petite brunette who, really, had done nothing but try her best to provide for her child. However, such thoughts bordered on sympathy, and he knew the reaction was neither desired by his present caregiver nor wanted on his behalf either. The further the two of them remained separated, distanced from each other, the better, for, when everything was said and done, he would go back to his life, and she and Cameron would go back to theirs, and, if Jason Morgan had any say in how things would turn out and he always did, they would never see each other again.

That was just how his life had to be, another lesson he had learned the hard way.

Sitting up despite his creaking ribs and burnt skin, he kicked the coffee table before him out of frustration, refusing to give further vent to his irritation. That was just another reason why he resented Elizabeth Webber's presence in his life. Because she was a woman, because she was a mother, she reminded him of the past, reminded him of things better left forgotten, and, while he wasn't foolish enough to delude himself into thinking she was the only thing that made him think of what had once been, he sure as hell knew she acerbated the issue, leaving it raw and practically bleeding from within.

Seething, he stood up, crossing to the lone window in the living room and peering out through a slight seam in the thick, closed drapes. The woman was late, later than he had anticipated, and, again, he was angry because he was worried. Despite sending her on errands, she should have returned to the safe house already. Typically, he would just send men out to search for her, but Max was off with Cameron, playing with the little boy while his boss privately raged where the child wouldn't see the full extent of his legendary temper, and all his other men were currently either indisposed or unavailable, not to mention the fact that most of them believed Jason to be dead.

It took all his willpower not to physically lash out. His restraint wasn't due to respect for his injuries but, instead, to the little boy who laughed and jabbered on happily just mere feet away. All he really wanted to do, though, was tear the curtains from their rods, turn over all the minimalistic furniture, and rip every single bland, innocuous painting off the walls, and, despite his determination to keep his fury as far away from the innocent child he begrudgingly could admit he liked, he knew it would erupt soon if Elizabeth did not appear.

Minutes ticked by, though, and still nothing. He went from standing to pacing, ignoring his body's complaints at such abuse. The constant motion helped to center him, and the almost blinding pain seemed to distract him from his urge to demolish, but, as he heard the door behind him open, the slight, almost imperceptible squeak of the humidity swollen wood giving voice to her overdue presence, his movements ceased and the slight control he had on his temper snapped, a livid vibration of energy coursing through his body like a finely plucked string on a bow.

Breathing through his nose, his hands clenched dangerously at his sides in an attempt to keep them from lashing out and knocking over every single thing adorning the fireplace mantle, Jason went to speak, tried to demand answers from the woman standing behind him, but her equally empty, devoid of anything remotely pleasant voice cut him to the chase, stilling the heated words right where they formed on his seemingly forked tongue.

"What the hell have you done with my son?"

The door slammed behind him as he whirled around to face his confronter. Fists positioned at his hips, he glared at the brunette, refusing to address her question until she explained the meaning behind it.

"I went to pick Cameron up from daycare this evening, and one of his teachers informed me that _his uncle _stopped by earlier to get him. While Cameron might have an uncle, my brother certainly wouldn't stoop so low beneath the Webber-Hardy reputation to actually spend time with his slut of a sister's bastard brat, not to mention the fact that he would be one of the very last people I would ever want Cam to be around. So, I'm going to ask you one more time, Mr. Morgan." The woman paused long enough to take several menacing steps forward until the point where she was almost close enough for him to reach out and touch, that is if he would ever want to do such a thing which he didn't. "Where is my son?"

Surprisingly calm and rational, he responded to her queries in way that he knew would only infuriate her even more. For some reason, though, there was this urge inside of him to see how far he could push the single mother. His anger at himself for hating her made him want her to hate him just as much. "He's fine."

"That didn't answer my question."

"I think the pressing concern here is where the hell have you been," Jason turned the conversation around, this time advancing on the suddenly shrinking brunette. Raising one challenging digit to point it in her face, he accused, "you should have been back here over an hour ago."

She didn't blink, her chin tilted up in defiance, and she never once tried to escape from his wrath even when he dropped his hand, nearly knocking it against her willowy frame. "I had to work over."

"Well, the last time I checked, the storm hadn't knocked out the power lines, so why didn't you call Max and let him know you were going to be late?"

Smiling sweetly, the waitress' face looked anything but pleasant. "Please excuse me, Mr. Morgan, but I must not have received the memo that stated I had to report back to you my every movement, just as you must have forgotten to inform me that you were taking my son without my permission. Do you know how illegal it was for Max to do that, not that you're unfamiliar with all things criminal, apparently."

"Don't act so self-righteous. Remember, the only reason you're here is because you were trespassing. The last time I checked, that was just as much of a crime as …"

"I don't want to hear it," Elizabeth snapped, interrupting him. The sheer fact that she would do such a thing startled Jason, for _no one _interrupted him. "And, just to set the record straight, it's pretty hard for me to just pick up a phone and inform someone that I'm going to be running late. I can't afford a cell phone, and my boss isn't the most accommodating of men."

With fire cracking in his icy eyes, he snapped, "that's not a good enough excuse!" Of their own volition, his hands raised once more. Even though he would never physically lay a finger on her in the effort to do harm, there was too much volatile energy flowing through him, and that energy found its release in jagged gestures and stalled advances towards the single mother's direction. He knew that he would never hit her, and he sensed that Elizabeth knew that as well, but, when a tiny, ineffectual body of a three year old little boy flung itself in front of his mother's legs, Jason realized that, evidently, Cameron didn't have that faith in him, and he immediately backed off.

"No, Jason, no," the child wailed, clutching desperately at his mother's form as if he could shield her from the mob boss' wrath alone. "No yelling! Mommy doesn't like yelling."

Before he could apologize or even excuse his own actions, though, really, there was no excuse for them, Elizabeth picked up her son and walked out of the room, their confrontation over, their anger anything but. Looking about the space, he noticed the dropped bags of groceries by the door, the lone bag from the library, and he cringed. Not only did he make the waitress pay for everything, but she had walked miles from town that night in the pouring rain, lugging around things he had demanded she get for him. He really was a bastard, and he hated her even more in that moment for making him realize that yet again.

-

The shattering sound of a tree being split in two by lightning roused Jason from what should have been a light sleep. Always in danger, he made sure that, even while resting, he was fully prepared for anything. The slightest sound woke him; the slightest shift in atmosphere roused him, but he didn't feel awake or alert. Instead, he felt dull and heavy as though he was weighted down by intense doses of incapacitating drugs. But that was impossible. He had told Elizabeth that he wanted nothing but antibiotics. Pain killers clouded the mind and made his senses both blurred and obscure. And she had promised him…

Her promises meant nothing, though, because, to her, he meant nothing. He was a means to an end, and the sooner he was gone from her life, the sooner it could return to normal, if one could consider squatting a normal existence.

Ambling slowly up from his reclined position on the couch, Jason cursed his injured body. It had betrayed him when he needed it the most… just like so many other things had betrayed him in the past. Glancing out the same window he had been watching for his caretaker from hours before, he looked to make sure that the damaged tree wasn't on fire and found its once regal length bent and charred like two singed ribbons of ash.

Turning away from the window, he wandered to the back of the house where the bedrooms were, curious as to why the deafening sound had not startled the slumbering toddler or awakened his equally exhausted mother. He should have known the reason already, though, shouldn't have needed the visual proof to tell him what was really wrong at the safe house that evening. After the argument he and Elizabeth had engaged in earlier and after her son's rather frightening response, the first thing Jason should have been expecting was for her to flee, running away from him and his irrational fury and misaimed frustration. The empty beds and cleaned out rooms only confirmed his belated suspicions.

His resentment and rage returned then, faster and smarter than before, but this time it was aimed solely upon its rightful target: himself. With no other recourse for his temper, without Elizabeth there to take the brunt of his wrath, he punched the wall beside him, the sickening sound of cartilage cracking and bones smashing into plaster only serving as a temporary relief.

While the storm outside started to settle, the storm inside him continued to rage on.


	7. Chapter 7

**Safe… No More**

**Chapter Seven  
FNF#16: Always have a backup plan.**

She was a terrible mother.

Not only could she not provide for her son, in essence being forced to resort to stealing in order to support him, but, now, here she was, in the middle of the night, dragging him from the comforts of a warm bed to sleep in the middle of the elements, and to say that those elements were not conducive to camping out would be a rather monumental understatement.

"Mommy," Cameron asked, his little voice wavering with both a yawn and the natural force of the howling wind. "What are we doing?"

"We're going on an adventure, sweetie."

And, now, she was also a liar. However, her little boy seemed satisfied with the answer, and, so, they kept trudging on, their steps slow and wobbly because they had to go at the three year old's pace. At first, when they had left the safe house, Cameron had still been half asleep, so she had tried to carry him as far as she could, but, between his weight and the weight of the few necessities she had brought with them, it had been too much for her slight frame to handle for too long. When Elizabeth had been forced to rouse her slumbering son and make him walk beside her, the disappointment she felt towards herself almost caused her to turn back around.

But she didn't. Through the crispy, ice hardened snow, they pressed on, the now lightly falling yet desperately chilling rain pelting their covered bodies mercilessly. The storm had stopped almost entirely, something she was thankful for, because she feared her son, if outside with it raging above and around him, would have been scared otherwise, and the last thing she wanted to do was scare Cameron even more, damage him even more.

That's why she had made the decision to leave the safe house and, more importantly, Jason Morgan. While it was one thing for her to deal with the resentment and bitterness he lobbed her way for reasons she had a feeling she could not begin to understand, it was a different story to allow her son to be affected by the mob boss' cruelness. She had never allowed Cam to hear what the Hardy's, and the Webber's, and the Spencer's said about her or her little boy, so she was definitely not going to allow him to see something worse. Though she had known that Jason would not cross the line and hit her, Cameron hadn't been so lucky, and no child deserved to see their mother threatened that way.

So, with that in mind, she had waited for the pain pills she had slipped the kingpin to kick in and, once they did, she started to gather the things they would need to spend the night away from the safe house. She had gathered spare clothes and all the warmest blankets she could find and carry. Without fully waking her son, she had dressed him in his snowsuit and winter jacket, complete with gloves, hat, and scarf. Everything else was left behind.

An hour and twenty minutes later, here they were, just a quarter of a mile away from their destination. Although not safe, Elizabeth felt that they were at least better off now than they were before, and better, currently, was the best she could do. Because she was a mother, because she had to put her son first, it didn't matter that, by leaving, she had broken her word to Jason Morgan. As for all their possessions, she had made sure by switching the man's pain pills with his antibiotics that they would be able to return to the safe house undetected at a later date to retrieve their things, but, until then, they would simply make do with what they had. It wouldn't be the first time they were living practically with only the clothes on their backs.

"Mama?"

"Yes, baby?"

Cam had been silent for several moments until he requested her attention again, and she had a feeling he still was not satisfied with her previous answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was timid, almost nervous. "Will there be… lions, and tigers, and bears?"

Confused, she asked, "what do you mean?"

"On our 'venture?"

"Oh." Relieved, Elizabeth laughed softly, pulling her little boy closer to her leg so she could loosely hug him. "Definitely no lions or tigers, Cam."

"But bears?"

For some reason, despite wanting to comfort him, the young mother just could not lie to her son again, so, instead, she said, "let's hope not."

"Because they're mean?"

"Because they'll probably be hungry," she replied, smiling down at the toddler in reassurance, "and I forgot to bring some honey."

The three year old laughed, just like she knew he would. Ever since he was a baby, she had read to him _Winnie the Pooh_ books, and, while they weren't his favorite, they were plentiful at the library, so he knew all the ins and outs of the Hundred Acre Woods. Satisfied with his mother's answer, the two of them walked the remaining distance to their destination in silence, the stillness only broken by the muted sounds of nature at night and by Cam's occasional yawn. She already knew it was going to be a struggle to wake the little boy up the next morning. At least they were closer to town, so their walk would be shorter, and they wouldn't have to leave as early as they usually did to get him to daycare and her to work on time.

Ten minutes later, they finally arrived.

First, she lifted the rolled sleeping bags and small duffle of their minimal possessions into the old, wooden structure before she bent over to pick her son up as well. After placing him inside, she hoisted herself up, immediately going to work to ready her little boy's pallet. While she worked, stuffing one sleeping bag into the other to double both their cushion and their warmth, she talked.

"Before you were born, I used to come here with your daddy. It was a special place for us." Because she knew her inquisitive child would want more information, Elizabeth continued. "It's an old boxcar, Cam, but it's been abandoned for years now. A long time ago, though, it once was pulled behind a…"

Interrupting her, the three year old shouted, "train!"

"That's right, baby." Grinning at the toddler, she opened her arms, and he instantly fell into her embrace, his little arms wrapping tightly around her neck despite the layers of clothing he wore. Unable to let go, the single mother hugged her son for as long as he would let her, only releasing him when he started to struggle. "Alright, Cam," she instructed him. "It's time for bed."

Without arguing, for he was exhausted, her little boy climbed into the blankets, only protesting when it became apparent that she wasn't going to remove his coat or snowsuit. "Don't wanna wear this to sleep, Mama."

"I know, sweetie, I know," Elizabeth sympathized, once again feeling like a terrible mother, "but you have to… so you're warm enough." As Cameron slid down and allowed her to zip the sleeping bags around him, he pouted. "I'm so sorry about this, honey. If there was any other way… You know that Mommy would do anything for you, right?"

"Yeah," he whispered, his eyes already drooping shut, "because you love me so much."

"More than anything else in the whole, entire world."

But Cameron didn't hear her final comment, for he was already asleep. Lowering herself to the cold, hard floor beside him, the young waitress wrapped her arms around her slumbering baby, hoping her body's nearness would lend her son even more warmth. It didn't matter to her that she hadn't been able to carry enough blankets for herself, too, and, though she could have crawled into her son's sleeping bags with him, Elizabeth knew that she couldn't be trapped and bound if some form of danger presented itself. While not many people knew about the old boxcar, it wasn't in that obscure of a location, and anything or anyone could stumble upon it. The bottom line was that they were not secure there.

While she knew she would doze on and off that night, for her body was just too tired to fight the inevitable pull of rest completely, the pretty yet depleted brunette also knew that such moments of respite would be fleeting and easily disturbed. Her body would naturally be on alert, ready and waiting for some kind of attack. Hopefully, her vigilance would be unnecessary, but a person, especially when they had a child, could never be too safe.

-

Elizabeth Webber was the most stubborn, bull headed, insane, infuriating woman he had ever met. To leave the warm and safe confines of an actual house, to traipse through the woods with a three year old during the middle of the night, and to think that an abandoned boxcar was a better place to stay than somewhere where he was… If he didn't die of infection thanks to her running away and forcing him to go after her, , following her tracks, then she alone would be the death of him.

Approaching the old railroad car, Jason Morgan sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and forced his anger aside. The sad truth of the matter was that he needed her, and he couldn't, in good conscious, allow a woman with a small child to live practically outside when it was still winter. He tried not to care, but, in the end, not even he was cold enough to turn his back on two innocents he had the power to help. But it was going to be easier said than done to convince Elizabeth to take herself and her son back to the safe house… to stay with him, and the last thing he could afford was a repeat performance from earlier that evening. He couldn't yell at the young mother, and he certainly couldn't raise his hand in rage towards her, even if he would never actually hit her. No matter what, he would never make Cameron afraid of him again, so he would just have to deal with his animosity towards the single mother in a different, more private way.

"You take one more step closer and I'll shoot," a voice threatened him from inside the abandoned wooden structure. Immediately, the mob boss recognized it as the young waitress'. "I swear," she pressed on. "I have a gun, and I'm not afraid to use it."

"Elizabeth," he said her name in the hope that the knowledge of the person approaching would calm her anxiety. "Get your stuff and let's go."

Before he heard her voice again, she appeared before him, her head poking out around the edge of the car. "I'm not going anywhere with you," she denied vehemently. "And are you insane?" He wanted to return the question to her but knew better and never received a chance to actually speak. "What the hell do you think you're doing, walking around outside so far from the safe house, risking your life? Are you trying to get an infection? Are you freaking suicidal?"

"I might be risking my life by coming after you," Jason returned harshly, his temper flaring up to meet and match hers. The fact that she seemed worried about him, though, didn't register, because all he could hear was her irritation towards him, and he took the bait and ran with it. "But you're risking all our lives and the lives of my men by throwing this little tantrum and running away."

"Well, excuse me for refusing to stay with a man who frightens my son! And just how exactly am I putting everyone's lives in danger here? All I did was leave."

"Yeah, you left, leaving me vulnerable on my own without anyone to care for my wounds and forcing me to come after you. Do you know what would happen if one of my enemies stumbled upon you and your son, Elizabeth? They would kill you without giving the action a second thought, simply because you both know me."

"Except no one's even aware of the fact that we know each other."

"Yet," the mob boss leveled back at her. "By you running away and forcing me to come after you, someone could have seen us, or they could see us as we make our way back to the safe house."

"I guess it's a good thing then," the brunette countered, "that Cameron and I are doing no such thing. Besides, you never would have been forced to come after me if you wouldn't have forced me into helping you in the first place, so quit trying to turn this back around on me, Mr. Morgan!"

He took several steps towards her so that, despite having to tilt his head back to look at her as she stood at the edge of the boxcar, their bodies were only several inches apart. "Let's not forget, Miss Webber, that the only reason I made you help me was because you've been helping yourself to my resources for years now, trespassing on my properties and squatting in my residences. You see," he added for extra measure, his reserve and plans of amiability long forgotten, "it all goes back to the fact that you stole from me, that you, for whatever reasons, were incapable of taking care of yourself and your son and that you resorted to taking advantage of other people to do so. Now, get your stuff and wake up your kid, because you _are _coming back to the safe house with me, and there's nothing you can do or say to make me change my mind, and, for Cam's sake, I'd rather we do this peacefully, but, if it's necessary…"

"I get it," Elizabeth snapped, interjecting rudely. "For the foreseeable future, I'm practically your servant, your slave. I do what you say when you say it and, to make it worse, I ask 'how, master.' You own me."

"I'm glad you're finally realizing your place."

"Don't get used to it," she threatened, seething, disappearing into the old railroad car to do as she was bid, "because it won't last long. Somehow, someway, I will get out from underneath your thumb, and, when I do…"

The comment was left open ended, and Jason wasn't sure if the single mother did such a thing because she wasn't sure what she would do in the future once she was away from him or because she thought the ambiguous warning would sound more ominous to his ears. And he was going to ask her what she meant, but, as he watched her jump down from the abandoned wooden car, reach up and bring her son into her arms, and then walk away from him, his petite form laden down with a three year old, two sleeping bags, and a small duffel, he realized where he knew her from; he remembered - everything.

Elizabeth Webber had been Lucky Spencer's girlfriend, and her son's father was dead, in part, because of him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Safe… No More**

**Chapter Eight  
FNF#17: No sense postponing the inevitable.**

He needed to talk to her, that much was apparent, but, now that he knew exactly who she was without the assistance of a thorough background check, now that he was aware of the fact that she wasn't just some woman trespassing on his property with her kid, Jason didn't know how to approach the young brunette, and, in turn, his sudden sense of uncertainty only seemed to further incite his irritation towards her, not to mention himself.

He was an asshole, a grade-A prick by self-design. If he presented a persona to the outside world that was cold, unforgiving, and unreceptive, then he wouldn't have to worry about people wanting to care about him. He wouldn't have to push them away or make decisions for them, because the truth of the matter was that everyone ran far away from him after their first encounter. And that's exactly how he wanted things to remain. Friends and family were simply unacceptable means for his enemies to get to him, and Jason shunned any relationship that may in fact contain warmth or generosity of spirit. But, now, because of an unforeseen set of circumstances, he couldn't push Elizabeth and her kid away, even if he wanted to, because, like it or not, he needed them or, at least, her.

His injuries weren't healing well, and his little excursion into the woods the night before hadn't improved upon matters either. At best, he was a prickly, uncooperative patient. Even before he realized that the single mother was secretly feeding him pain pills on top of his accepted antibiotics, he fought her when it came time to take his medicine. When she was away at work or running errands for him, he skipped the doses she prescribed him to take, despite knowing that such actions would only prolong his recovery. It wasn't that he necessarily didn't want to get better, and he certainly didn't want to prolong his time with the younger woman or Cam, but he was stubborn, and he hated the way the drugs made him feel.

As for the burns themselves, the mob boss knew that they would take a long time to fully mend, time that he didn't have. His organization was in shambles. Because his competitors believed him to be dead, he had to remain that way in order to maintain the advantage, so he couldn't step forward and seek real medical aid. Although he was in contact with Max thanks to Elizabeth's help, the guard was under strict instructions not to bring any unnecessary attention to either the safe house or the young mother taking care of Jason.

However, the kingpin had realized the night before that they simply couldn't go on under their present conditions. They had no phone, no means of transportation besides walking, and Jason didn't trust Elizabeth not to bolt again, so he was going to take some risks, hoping that they would pay off in the long run. That was just one of the many things that he needed to discuss with the brunette who was, despite her diligence towards his welfare, doing her best to ignore his presence.

They – the three of them – were having breakfast together… well, sort of. While Elizabeth and Cameron sat at the coffee table in the living room, both of them quieting eating bowls of cold cereal while they whispered back and forth about their day, he stood at the lone window in the room, silently contemplating just what he would say to his unwilling caretaker.

Although his wounds had been redressed, his tense, strained muscles massaged, his hand bandaged, and his medication – only the antibiotics – administered, the brunette waitress had yet to say a word to him. Silently, by lifting the box of cereal, she had asked him if he wanted anything to eat, and, with a slight shake of his head, he had declined. That had been the extent of their communication, and Jason wished it could cease there. But it couldn't.

They needed to discuss the new security measures he was putting in place just as soon as he spoke to Max that afternoon, he wanted to talk to her about the gun she had informed him of the night before, and, despite the fact that he told himself repeatedly that he didn't really care, he had questions about her life, questions about how she and her little boy got to the point where they had to rely upon squatting in order to survive. However, the one thing he didn't need to ask her was why she had run off the night before, putting not only her own child in jeopardy because of the cold, unsavory weather, but also herself, him, and the rest of his men, for the answer to that question he already knew.

When Lucky Spencer had been alive, he and Jason had not been close. One could certainly not term them friends. However, they had been, at least, civil with each other, and the younger man had rented an apartment above a business that the now mob boss owned. When he would come to inspect the place, making sure that everything was running smoothly according to his stringent rules, he would sometimes see the Spencer kid and his girlfriend – Elizabeth Webber - together. She was shy, timid, and acted extremely nervous around him, and her anxiety aimed in his direction had irked Jason. So, he had gone to Lucky to ask the younger man what he had ever done to warrant such an attitude, and the kid had told him that Elizabeth, several years before, had been brutally raped, that, despite moving past the ordeal to the best of her ability thanks to counseling, she was still on the long road to recovery, that she still dealt with the after effects of the trauma every single day.

And, just the evening before, he had practically raised a hand in violence towards the brunette. Granted, he had been unaware of who she was exactly at the time, but that was no excuse for his actions. Without having to ask her, Jason knew that what he had done had scared the single mother, perhaps even more so than she even realized herself, and the fact had been cemented by Cameron's reaction, because, undoubtedly, she had been terrified at the prospect of her son ever witnessing a man aggressively confront a woman. Subconsciously, he had scratched at the scars of her rape, and, if for nothing else but that, the kingpin realized, once again, that he was a bastard.

Clenching both his eyes and his fists together, Jason tried to force his thoughts away. Getting lost in his regrets, in his anger and his humiliation would do absolutely no good… for anyone involved. He needed to focus. He needed to rid his mind of the moment when the past had come crashing down painfully on top of him the night before and, instead, focus upon the present. What it had been about watching Elizabeth as she packed up at the boxcar that had triggered his memory, he didn't know, but he resented the recollection and wished, despite knowing that such an action was foolish and pointless, that it had never occurred. Where Elizabeth Webber was concerned, ignorance had been bliss.

"You're getting a guard."

He waited several beats, fully anticipating a smart mouth response by his disinclined, temporary roommate, but, instead, the mob boss was greeted with the stillness of the safe house. Turning away from the window, he faced the young mother and her quiet child, both of them looking towards their breakfast, their heads bowed almost in submission. Typically, outright obedience was what he expected from those in his life, but Jason hated seeing it from the waitress, not because her cooperation wasn't desired but because he knew the only reason he was receiving it was because she was attempting to distract him with her sudden shift in attitude.

Gritting his teeth, though, he pressed on. "Also, Cameron will no longer be attending daycare, at least," he reasoned when he finally noticed the young mother's eyes flash dangerously, "for as long as you're helping me out. And this decision has nothing to do with wanting to control you through your kid but everything to do with security. The more the two of you are exposed, the greater the risk that you're in, and, whether I like this situation or not, I'm not about to allow two innocents to be caught up in my war."

He didn't like discussing such coarse, inappropriate things in front of a three year old, but it almost felt as if Cameron needed to be present between them at all times. As unfairly as such a thought was, the little boy was a buffer of sorts between them. While he would neither do nor say anything in front of him that could hurt the child's mother, Elizabeth also behaved when her son was present.

"Also," he continued as he moved across the room, slowly lowering himself so that he was seated across from them on the coach. His ribs protested the action, and his burns cried out in misery, but the crime lord merely grimaced the pain away, refusing to give voice to his suffering. "We're getting cell phones, untraceable ones. This not being able to communicate with each other when you're not here just won't work. I need a way to safely contact you if anything is wrong, and you need a way to get in touch with either me or Max if something happens to you."

He looked away then, unable to look her in the eye any further. He hated the fact that he was putting Elizabeth and Cameron's lives at risk, but the fact of the matter was that he needed her. As much as that pained him to admit, it was the truth, so he had to do everything within his power to make sure that, when everything was said and done, she and her son were able to walk away from him safely.

"We'll switch the phones out every day, just in case. Max will bring us new ones every morning when he comes to pick you up before delivering you to your guard for the day. I don't like lying to my men, but, right now, it's necessary. Only a select few can know that I'm alive, and the rest will be operating under the assumption that Johnny, Max, and a few others you haven't met yet are trying to pick up the pieces of the organization and run with it themselves. Max is going to be telling your guard that you're Johnny's sister, and that's why the men will think that you need to be protected so diligently. And you," he warned, glaring at Elizabeth, "will go along with this story."

Again, the infuriating woman didn't reply. Rather, she simply nodded her head once in acquiesce, despite the fact that the mob boss knew she was probably biting a permanent hole through her tongue in order to remain silent and in check. If there was one thing he knew about the Elizabeth Webber of today, it was the fact that she did not back down without a fight, that she was just as stubborn, willful, and determined as the Elizabeth Webber of a few years back had been subdued, withdrawn, and timid.

"Finally, I'll be relocating my recovery. This safe house is too small, too close to town, and we have other properties, properties that are much more secure, that will work better. Max is going to do everything he can to keep from bringing suspicion upon me, but, just in case he does, I need to be properly prepared, and I can't do so here."

"Good, that's good," Elizabeth commented, and he almost breathed a sigh of relief when she spoke at long last. "I think it's obvious that the two of us just should never be within close quarters of each other. Clearly, you're going to make me continue to take care of you, but I think it'll work much better if Cam and I remain here, and you can just simply send for me when you're in need of assistance or…"

"Wait, wait, slow down," the kingpin ordered. "What do you mean that you and Cameron will remain here? That's not an option, Elizabeth," he countered her, and, as the words left his mouth, he watched the wall of contempt and hostility descend down, once more, upon her face. "You and your son will be relocating with me." Before she could even think to protest, he stressed, "this is non-negotiable."

"But what about Cam," the brunette wanted to know. "He's comfortable here, all his things are here, and he doesn't like to move, probably because we've been forced to do so too many times already in his short life."

"Of course we'll bring all his toys and clothes with us. I wouldn't leave them behind," Jason defended himself. "I want your little boy to be comfortable, Miss Webber, with me, with my men, and in this new safe house." Turning towards the three year old in question, he addressed the little boy. "I'm sorry that you're going to have to move again, Cam," the mob boss apologized, "but there's going to be a TV at this new place we're going to, and we can watch cartoons in the morning while you eat your breakfast. Plus, the yard is fenced in, so you'll be able to play outside. I'll even have my… I'll even have Max build you a swing set. Would you like that?"

Much like his reticent mother, the toddler simply nodded his head, evidently still unwilling to forget or forgive Jason of his actions from the previous day, but the crime lord didn't begrudge the child his feelings of resentment. After all, they were well deserved. Looking back at the kid's mother, he changed the topics swiftly, not giving her a chance to argue with his plans for the new safe house. "May I ask you something… personal?"

"I really don't think that would be appropriate, Mr. Morgan, and I would rather…"

"Why didn't you ever seek governmental help for Cameron," he inquired anyway. The surprised expression upon the waitress' face told him that she had not been expecting such a question. "Surely, given your circumstances, you would qualify for aid – welfare, food stamps, maybe even housing assistance. Please, don't tell me that you were too proud to even ask for help."

"I wasn't," Elizabeth informed him. "I filled out all the necessary paperwork, was assured that I would receive relief, but, in the end, I was denied - no explanation, no apology, no 'please try again.'"

"How is that even…"

"My family is quite well known and respected in this town, and they have a lot of very rich and very powerful friends. I believe it is within their influence to control my life even when I am no longer in theirs."

Deciding there was no further need to discuss a matter that she had no control over, Jason filed the information away for later use, and, instead, rapidly redirected their conversation once again. "Can I speak to you a minute alone, please," and, without waiting for her concession, he awkwardly stood from the sofa and moved across the room, knowingly waiting for Elizabeth to follow.

Once she did, he pivoted to face her. "Give me your gun," he demanded.

Her twisted, baffled expression told him more than her words did. "Excuse me?"

"Last night, you threatened to shoot me when I approached you at the boxcar. You said that you had a gun and that you weren't afraid to use it."

"I lied," the single mother replied simply.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jason pressed on, sighing out the galling woman's name. "Elizabeth…"

"Look, I'm telling you the truth," she exploded, her voice lethal yet reserved so as not to scare Cameron. "I hate guns. In fact, I hate violence. I never want to see one, let alone ever be put in a position where I have to use one. My… Cam's father was killed because of violence, and I…"

"Yeah, about that," the blonde interrupted, causing the single mother to take a hesitant, almost frightened step back. "About Lucky…"

"This conversation is over. I don't have a gun, and I never will own one," Elizabeth dismissed both his concerns and his effort to broach the topic of their shared past. He realized in that moment that she had been aware of their former association from the very beginning but had been either unwilling to speak about it herself or unwilling to help him recall the person who, at one time, connected them. And, as she frigidly walked away from him, Jason also realized that they needed to discuss the past, whether the petite brunette was willing to or not.


	9. Chapter 9

**Safe… No More**

**Chapter Nine  
FNF#18: "You are the strength that keeps me walking. You are the hope that keeps me trusting." – **_**Everything**_**, Lifehouse**

If Mr. I-Have-a-Black-AmEx-Card-So-I'm-Entitled-to-Everything-and-Anything-I-Want grabbed her ass or, at least, that general vicinity one more time, Elizabeth was going to drop kick the slime ball back into diapers, and there was no way she could be held accountable for her actions.

Typically, she had the patience of a saint… or so she had been told by one of her fellow waitresses. Whether it was from being the mother of a toddler or from having to put up with practically the entire town's assault upon her character, she wasn't sure, but most annoyances at work rolled off her back pretty easily. But her day had started off on the wrong foot that morning, and, as it progressed, it only seemed to get worse.

First, her boss had threatened to fire her when she had shown up with her new 200 pound accessory - her bodyguard. He had ranted and raved about the criminal element in Port Charles and ungrateful hooligans until the point where she feared the elderly man would keel over in front of her and die of a heart attack, something of which, in that particular moment, she had been hard pressed to muster up any sort of sympathy at even the thought of such a thing occurring. However, with some slick maneuvering, some fawning, and a whole hell of a lot of explaining, Mr. Quartermaine had relented, and she had gone off to work, only to face one harassing customer after another. It almost felt as though the old curmudgeon had purposely had the hostess seat all the troublemakers in her section, simply in an effort to punish her for daring to do something her employer did not approve of.

So, from families with taxing children, to demanding heiresses, to, now, drunk businessmen who felt that the world was their oyster and she was their own personal pearl ripe for the plucking, Elizabeth was practically ready to just throw in the towel, have a good cry, and quit. Only two things were keeping her from making such a hasty, rash decision. The first, obviously, was Cameron. She couldn't render her little boy's life even more precarious than it already was. And, secondly, she refused to give Jason Morgan even an inch of room to ridicule her parenting skills further. He already believed her to be less than worthy of her son, and she sure as hell wasn't going to encourage or provide further cause for derision from the mob boss.

With that thought in mind, she clenched her jaw just that much tighter, resolved to keep her mouth clamped shut so that no insults or complaints would come flying out of her lips. Instead of yelling at the customer who continued to sexually assault her, she simply walked past his and his colleagues' table as quickly as possible, her head held high and her chin steeled in determination. Even if the piece of scum was bothering her, she would do everything within her power not to let the world know. Unfortunately, because of where the man's table was located, she had to pass by him every time she went to the kitchen, meaning that her backside and upper thighs were going to be covered in bruises by the time she finished her shift, but the realization only strengthened her resolve, and, to coincide with her fortitude, her tray, balanced expertly on her left hand, seemed to get higher and higher with every pass she made of the dining room.

She had just come back from depositing a table's dirty dishes in the back and was making her way towards a new, recently arrived customer in order to take their drink order while they perused the menu, and, of course, the lone diner would have to be sitting adjacent to Mr. Grabby-Hands, so the single mother was sure that she was going to be goosed several times before she managed to escape from the drunk man's presence. However, as she glanced up across the dining room, meeting the new clientele's gaze, her concerns for her tender flesh were pushed back as she tried to concentrate on the face of the man before her.

If she didn't know better, she would have thought that they were acquainted. The older man certainly looked familiar, but she couldn't place where she knew his countenance from, and his name escaped her memory completely. But her suspicions were foolish, perhaps even wishful thinking, for no longer was she someone who those who frequented The Port Charles Grille would ever claim to know. Instead of being a part of their upper, privileged society, she was now the help, disgraced and disowned. Even if the man before her had known her at one time, he would certainly not admit to the acquaintance now.

But she plastered on her fake smile anyway, its wide, bright appearance masking just how miserable the young waitress truly was, and, sadly, no one ever saw past it. "Good afternoon," she greeted the impeccably dressed gentleman. He wore a suit even she could tell was extremely expensive. It was neatly pressed, not a crease out of place or a wrinkle present. His silk shirt was unbuttoned slightly at the top, and, whether by personal choice or simply in an effort to follow the current fashion guidelines, she didn't know, he was without a tie. His hair was dark, curly, but streaked with gray, and his face was heavily lined as though time and circumstance had not been kind to him. To Elizabeth, he looked like someone who had lost everything important to him but his pride, and, immediately, she felt a sort of compassionate connection to him.

Shaking away her thoughts, she refocused on the task at hand – doing her job, and she introduced herself. "My name is Elizabeth, and I'll be your server today. Could I start you out with a drink first while you glance over the menu, or perhaps you'd like to order an appetizer…"

Interrupting her greeting, she felt a bruising pinch on her right cheek, and she instantly stiffened and stepped further away from the wandering hand. "Aw, now don't do that, sweetheart," the man who had been badgering her all day complained. Despite the distance she had managed to put between them, she still felt his palm make contact with her ass once more as he slapped it lightly. "You know," the drunken patron drawled. "If you would have offered yourself up on the appetizer menu, I definitely wouldn't have ordered one then. Now, quit being so shy, step on back here closer again, and let me get a proper feel of what I've been trying to grab all afternoon."

Despite her best intentions, the young, single mother felt her cheeks redden with mortification. It had been one thing for the customer to privately bother her, keeping his remarks, and innuendos, and advances quiet and somewhat reserved, but, now, he had insulted her in front of another diner, someone who was patient, and kind, and someone whom she had wanted to impress with her waitressing skills in the hopes of earning a decent tip, and she felt like nothing more than a piece of meat, a whore, someone to be used and abused and tossed carelessly away, and that degradation made her stand frozen in place, incapable of either defending herself or continuing with her previous task.

However, as she watched the wealthy, reserved man before her stand and calmly place his napkin aside, she realized neither action was necessary any further. Gently, he touched her arm, the gesture both warm and respectful. "If you would excuse me for a moment, Miss, there's something else here that requires my immediate attention." And, with that, he smiled, an infectious, dimpled grin that instantaneously sent her rocketing back into the past, and turned away from her, no doubt either leaving the restaurant entirely or leaving to find management in order to complain about her service.

Instead, though, he simply stood in front of her drunken harasser. "You know, I like to think that I'm a tolerant man. I try to be fair minded with both my friends and my employees. I listen when they have a problem, weigh their concerns, and then attempt to act accordingly in a manner that would be best for everyone involved. I try not to lose my temper, for I learned long ago that doing so does me absolutely no favors, but there are some lines that any self-respecting man will not cross, and, for me, allowing a woman to be sexually harassed, especially when she's just trying to do her job, well, that's one of them."

Without warning, he held his hand out for the other man to shake, and, probably because of all the alcohol he had imbibed that afternoon, her unwelcome aggressor obliged. "Sonny Corinthos," the finely dressed customer introduced himself, squeezing the other patron's fingers so roughly, so firmly that Elizabeth could hear a distinctive crunching sound fill the dining room. Leaning forward, he lowered his voice so that only those close enough could hear what he had to say. "If I ever see you insulting another woman the way you were just insulting Miss Webber today, a broken hand will be the least of your problems. Do we understand each other?"

With a quick jerk of his head, the injured and mortified man fled from the restaurant, his associates following rapidly behind as Sonny moved back to his table, retook his seat, and serenely folded his napkin back onto his lap. Elizabeth could do nothing but stare in his direction, but he seemed perfectly unaffected by what had just occurred.

"You know, I am feeling kind of parched," he informed her. "How about a glass of your best scotch and an ice water to start out with?"

She went to fill his order without delay or comment, but a blustering, red faced, indignant Mr. Quartermaine stalled her retreat towards the kitchen. "What the hell just happened here," her boss demanded, gesturing wildly towards the empty entrance where his upscale clientele had just vanished from. "Those were some of my very best customers, and they ran out of here, ranting that they'll never return."

"You should consider yourself lucky, Edward," Mr. Corinthos stated, flashing another smile in the elderly man's direction. "A man of your class and character wouldn't want slime like that dining at your establishment. Why, I'm sure if word got out about how repulsively they were treating Miss Webber, The Grille's reputation would no doubt suffer."

Narrowing his eyes, the cantankerous killjoy demanded, "who let this lowlife into my restaurant. I want him thrown out immediately!"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Sonny suggested. "Because, if you do, who is going to cover that jerk's bill? I highly suspect you're not going to want to take that big of a loss. Four complete meals with all that expensive liquor…"

"Alright, Corinthos, you made your point," her boss allowed. "But I'll be watching you."

"I wouldn't expect anything less, old man."

Stalking away, the patriarch of the Quartermaine family finally left them alone, but, still, Elizabeth wasn't allowed to flee. Hooking his thumb over his left shoulder, the man she now recognized as the aged ex-don of Port Charles advised her, "if I were you, I'd have a talk with Jason about your guard. He shouldn't have stood back and allowed that man to harass you all afternoon. It's his responsibility to protect you, and he's doing a pretty piss-poor job of it."

Without thought, the single mother blurted out, "Jason's dead," the instructions that Max had drilled into her head that morning finding an outlet.

"Then why is one of his men, one of my former guards, watching your every move?"

She knew that their rehearsed story wouldn't work with Sonny. He wasn't some nameless, faceless enemy; he was the man responsible for molding Jason Morgan. He knew the city's current mob boss practically better than he knew the back of his own hand, and he also knew all the men under Jason's employ and her, thanks to his former connection to Luke, Lucky's father. So, instead of telling him that she was Johnny's sister and that she was now in danger because her big brother was trying to take the reins of Jason's empire, she lied. Thankfully, she was quick on her feet.

"Before Jason died, we were… we were close."

Without further word, she turned on her heel and quickly made her way out of the dining room, leaving a slightly stunned yet curious looking Sonny Corinthos in her wake.

And, suddenly, she felt consumed with guilt.


	10. Chapter 10

**Safe… No More**

**Chapter Ten  
FNF#19: "Strength lies not in the mightiest but in the most deserving of people."**

He was waiting for her when she arrived; he had been waiting for her for hours, not because she was late but because of the call he had received that afternoon. Already in the new safe house, Jason stood silently in the shadows of the living room, listening and preparing himself for what was sure to be an ugly confrontation. Circumstances had forced his hand, and, now, he was going to have to confide in Elizabeth Webber things he rarely allowed himself to think about, and, to put it mildly, talking to the frustrating woman was easier said than done for him.

After the guard dropped her off, quickly pulling away as his assignment for the day had been completed, the mob boss listened to the single mother as she entered the sprawling ranch. She came in through the back entrance, into a mud room, where she deposited her coat and shoes, and he could hear her as she sighed in relief, her feet thankful for the reprieve they were receiving from the ridiculously high boots the infuriating woman insisted upon wearing to work. Although he really didn't care what kind of shoes she wore, Jason could only assume the added height was a means for the younger woman to feel in control, to feel powerful, because, for some reason unknown to him, others equated authority with size. He ran into the stigma practically every day through his job.

"Cam, sweetie, where are you?" Her voice was soft, welcoming, at ease, and it amazed Jason that she could so easy dismiss the day in order to focus on her son. Whether such a thing was healthy or not, he didn't know, nor did he care, but he did find himself grudgingly approving of the fact that the waitress was putting her child first. It still didn't mean that he agreed with the way she was raising the toddler, but he felt it was a step in the right direction.

As she rounded the doorway that connected the bright, cheerful kitchen to the more somber living room, Elizabeth added, "honey, come on. I'm home and…"

He stood then, turning to greet her. "We need to talk," the crime lord responded, carefully looking above her sightline in order to avoid her gaze. If he wanted to keep their conversation as civil as possible, he could not watch her anger and allow it to influence or spark his own. But, when she remained silent, he shuffled, fidgeted, reaching to shove his hands into his jeans pockets only to find, once again, that the shorts he wore to accommodate his burns wouldn't allow for such a reassuring action.

Instead, he was forced to wait as Elizabeth crossed the room, put her bag down on the coffee table, and then sat in one of the armchairs positioned strategically close to the hearth. The fireplace was unlit, and he wondered if that was a mistake. While he might not feel the cold, others did. Cameron had seemed fine all morning and afternoon with only the safe house's furnace running, but the little boy was also active, constantly running around and playing with his toys, even if he still refused to sit and talk with Jason like he had done at first. Maybe Elizabeth was cold, maybe she was chilled after the car ride back from town, maybe he should…

Interrupting his thoughts, she suggested, "you need to open up discussions between us some other way. As soon as you say 'we need to talk,' I'm immediately on edge."

"Why?"

"Why," the brunette asked incredulously, standing up, once again, to walk around the sitting area and to pace behind the couch. Replacing her former position, he took a seat, choosing the chair opposite of the one she had just moments ago been occupying. "Because it makes it sound like I did something wrong or like you have to tell me some bad news. Is it so difficult to say 'hello, Elizabeth? How was your day?'"

Women were so damn confusing. "You don't like me, so I try to make our conversations as brief as possible. But hello, I guess."

"Hi," the brunette bit back harshly, glaring in his direction. "And…"

"And I'm not going to ask you about your day when I already know what happened. That would just be a waste of time."

He watched as the single mother let out a growl of frustration before running her fingers through her thick, dark hair, pushing it off of her pale face. "Fine," she relented, obviously too tired, whether with him or just in general he wasn't sure, to pursue their latest disagreement. "Just say what you have to say so that I can go and spend time with my son."

"Cameron isn't here." When she went to ask him where her toddler was, he answered her without being properly prompted. "I sent him out with Max for some ice cream. I didn't think he should be here to hear us… talk."

Angrily, she yelled, "you had no right to do that. He's my child, not yours, and, when I get home at night, I expect him to be here. Besides," she added spitefully, shooting dangers in his direction. "Ice cream will ruin his dinner."

"Better that than us shouting and fighting with one another ruining it, though, right," the mob boss returned, finding his own temper igniting. Taking a deep breath, he vaguely gestured towards the chair opposite of him. "Sit." When she didn't move, he begrudgingly added, "please." The word felt like cotton in his mouth. After all, he didn't ask; he ordered, and no one before had ever dared to ignore his wishes or flaunt them… at least, not until Elizabeth Webber had come trespassing into his life.

Once the single mother was seated, he sighed, sat back in his own chair, and then looked up at the ceiling in exasperation, as if he were asking for some silent, intangible help. "Why did you tell Edward Quartermaine that you're dating Johnny? I thought we agreed that you'd say he was your brother."

"Mr. Quartermaine knows who I am, he knows my family, and he sure as hell knows that I'm not an O'Brien. He was there when my parents announced their pregnancy, he was there to smoke a cigar with my father when I was born, and he was there when I was baptized. How else do you think my parents and grandmother were capable of stopping my application for government assistance? I told you they had friends in high places." Shrugging, she dismissed her own actions. "So what if I fudged your cover story a little bit? Mr. Quartermaine never would have believed the one you came up with, but he will… and does believe mine."

"Why?"

"Because he already thinks I'm the town whore," she replied easily, as if he should have known the answer himself. "Eighteen, still in high school, and pregnant with your dead boyfriend's baby does not inspire feelings of warmth and compassion among my family's circle of friends. Hell," the brunette scoffed, rolling her wide, expressive eyes. He forced himself to look away again. "The only reason he even hired me in the first place is because he knew it would be a way to keep tabs on me for my grandmother while still degrading me, and there's nothing I can do about it, because I need that job. He knows that, I know that, and every other person in that restaurant knows that, so I have no one on my side."

She had just taken his argument, chewed it up, and spit it back out at him, and Jason had no idea what to say in response. So, instead of saying anything, he simply changed the subject, redirecting their conversation back to an area he felt more comfortable with: what she had done wrong and why he was justified in being pissed off towards her once again. "And Sonny," he posed, pinching the bridge of his nose in aggravation. "Obviously, you couldn't have told him either that you're Johnny's sister, but why did you have to go and say that you were involved with me? Why didn't you just stick to the same story you told Edward?"

"Sonny knows Johnny, and he knows me, too, and, instead of having him pick around at a relationship that doesn't exist, trying to find something that isn't really there, I told him that we were involved before you died, because that seemed like the easier lie to maintain. I feel guilty enough already for having to be dishonest with him, so I didn't want to make it worse by having to perpetuate a lie. Besides," she added, the contempt she felt for their entire situation oozing through her words. "None of this would be necessary in the first place if it weren't for you, so, if you don't like the way I'm handling the situation, find someone else to do your dirty work for you."

"You know that's not feasible right now, Elizabeth," he countered, rising from his chair and standing before the dark fireplace. Resting his forearms across the mantle, he leaned into the wood. "We have already talked about this, several times in fact, so can we just not have this fight again." Once more, gritting his teeth, he tacked on a very bitter, very unpleasant, "please," and even Jason could hear the resemblance the one word held to the sound of nails being dragged across a chalk board. Still not looking at her, he pressed on. "And there's more we need to discuss about Sonny."

"What about him," the young waitress wanted to know. Her tone seemed demanding, challenging even. "He was nice to me today, stepped in and helped me out when he didn't need to. I can't tell you how long it has been since someone has looked at me as though I haven't done anything wrong. It was… it was nice, actually. I really think that, if given the chance, we could be friends."

Scoffing at the very idea, the crime lord dismissed it. "That's impossible. I don't even want you talking to him if you ever see him again."

Elizabeth stood, confronting the back he was still presenting to her. "And I don't think that's your call to make. Where the hell do you get off telling me who I can and cannot be friends with?"

Ignoring her question, he continued, pivoting around. "If you see him, turn around and walk in the opposite direction. If he approaches you at work, immediately find your guard, and he'll get rid of Sonny for you. That's why the guard is there, Elizabeth. If you have a problem, he'll take care of it, but he's not a mind reader."

"First of all," she seethed, advancing another step towards him so that they were practically nose to nose, her eyes narrowed into tiny, dangerous slits. "If you're implying that my guard didn't step in this afternoon because he wasn't sure if I minded some man harassing me, that's bullshit, Jason. I shouldn't have to tell him that I don't like being sexually assaulted."

"No, you're right, and Adam has been dealt with."

He saw the fear ricochet through her gaze, and he instantly regretted his words. "What does that mean?"

"That means that he's been reassigned, and you'll have a new guard tomorrow, someone who _will _know better. But I'm serious about Sonny, Elizabeth," the mob boss stressed. "Your interaction with him ends now."

"How can you say that," she inquired, visually looking perplexed. "The two of you were once friends, Jason. While I don't know much about your life, I do know that much. At least, that's what it always seemed like…"

Exploding, he challenged her words. "Sonny is not my friend; he never was. That man… he's unstable, unpredictable, dangerous. Under no circumstances can you be around him."

Fisting her hands on her hips, the young mother tilted her chin up in defiance and spoke rationally, calmly. "Excuse me, but Sonny's not the one throwing a fit right now. That would be you, Jason. In fact," she added for further proof, "this afternoon, when he confronted that drunken customer, he never once raised his voice."

"But he did break the man's hand," he countered.

"Look, you weren't there. You don't know what he was…"

"But I know Sonny," the blonde refuted. Stepping away from the waitress, he, once again, leaned against the fireplace mantel, this time at an angle so that she could still see his profile. "He's like that – charming, sophisticated, kind, but, before you know it, he can turn ugly, and, when he does, there's no stopping the destruction he can cause.

"Sonny was the one who helped me after my accident. He took me in, gave me a job, a life, but it didn't take me long to realize just how erratic his behavior could be at times. He would put his people's lives in danger to suit his own whims. He made bad business decisions, allowed things to get personal, and the organization was quickly falling apart. So I stepped in. Wrong or not, I took over, pushing Sonny out. I made it seem like he chose to retire early in order for him to save face, but he still resented me for my actions. He said that I betrayed him."

Jason was surprised that Elizabeth was listening to every word he said, that she hadn't interrupted him, so, to take advantage of her attentive audience, he pushed on. "He stuck around Port Charles, though, dabbled in a few shady business dealings, but, at the time, he was still involved with Brenda Barrett, and he pretty much threw all his attention upon her. They got engaged, planned a wedding, but then someone came to Sonny with a deal, providing him with the means to take me on, and he walked away from the woman he loved just in the hopes of getting some empty revenge.

"Brenda went insane, killed herself, and, of course, Sonny blamed me. Luckily, I thwarted his plan for payback, and he ran away to his private island with his tail between his legs. That was more than three years ago, and I haven't seen or heard from him since. Until today," the kingpin stated, finally looking up and meeting the brunette's questioning gaze. "My building gets bombed, it's presumed that I'm dead, and, all of a sudden, Sonny Corinthos comes waltzing back into town, asking questions about me, no less."

"So, automatically, you jump to the conclusion that he's here to reclaim his territory," the single mother surmised. "That's pretty egotistical, even for you, Jason."

Frustrated with her inability to trust him, he yelled, "it all adds up! If you just weren't so blind, if you only knew…"

"Look, this is what I know to be fact." Taking a deep breath to prepare herself for all that she was about to say, Elizabeth stated, "you're an asshole. You're rude, judgmental, callous, and you treat me like I'm something you scraped off the bottom of your shoe. Sonny, well, he's always been nice to me. He was nice to me when I was a kid still dating Lucky, he was nice to me when he came to Lucky's memorial service, and he was nice to me today when he helped me out because your assigned guard wouldn't lift a finger to intervene on my behalf.

"You say that Sonny is unstable, but you're the one who can't seem to control his temper. You say that Sonny wants revenge against you, and I say that I don't blame the guy. I don't care how erratic his behavior might have been, you took something that was rightfully his and after he took you in and helped you out no less.

"So, excuse me if I don't believe you. As for your demands that I stay away from Sonny, well, you can just forget about that, because I, for one, don't believe that he was the person who tried to kill you. It's been three years, Jason. Not everyone holds onto grudges as long as you apparently do, and I'm sure that Sonny has much better things to do than worry about you."

Throwing up his hands in irritation, he ignored the flames of pain that licked down his sides from his injured ribs. "If you could just separate your hatred for me for five minutes from your common sense, you would see that you're wrong, and I'm right. Sonny is dangerous, Elizabeth, and, if you continue to…"

"Mommy, mommy, mommy," Cameron called out, running through the house. As soon as the three year old burst into the living room, Jason and Elizabeth separated, retreating to their own corners so to speak. Neither of them wanted the child to be affected by their anger.

"I got ice cream," the toddler exclaimed, though the evidence was quite apparent on his chubby face. "Chocolate," he declared, happily lifting a dish of the same sweet concoction towards his mother. "I got you some, too."

"Why, thank you, sweetie," the little boy's mother beamed towards her son, bending down to kiss his sticky face. "That was very nice of you."

Cameron shrugged, obviously pleased with both himself and his treat. "Jason said to."

Elizabeth turned then to face him, and, for a brief moment, the mob boss thought he saw a flicker of surprise, of doubt enter her eyes before it was quickly extinguished. "Must have been a momentary lapse of judgment on his part," she murmured under her breath, but he could still hear the words. "Come on, baby," the young waitress suggested, already steering the toddler out of the room. "Why don't you show me your new bedroom while Mommy eats her ice cream before it melts, okay?"

"What about Jason?"

"Jason, he…" Glancing over her shoulder, the brunette glowered in his direction. "He prefers to be alone, honey."

And she was right. He did. He did prefer to be alone. It was better that way, better for everyone. He liked his peace and quiet and his solitude.

Shaking off his thoughts, Jason kicked the metal gate before the cold hearth, irritably stomping into the kitchen to get a beer from the fridge. That was the only company he needed… or wanted.


	11. Chapter 11

**Safe… No More**

**Chapter Eleven  
FNF#20: Pick your poison.**

"I can't believe you're a mother."

Elizabeth's smile was guarded, unsure. "Why," she asked, needing to know before their interaction went any further if the man sitting beside her had the same thoughts about her relationship with her son as the rest of the town did. "Because I'm so young?"

"No, of course not," Sonny waved off her inquiry. "My own mother had me at seventeen. While she had her faults, she also loved me dearly, so who am I to judge?" He laughed then, his merry gaze rocketing between her own relaxed form and that of her little boy's who played just a few feet away in the local park's sandbox. It was her day off, and, instead of remaining cooped up at the safe house with a perpetually grumpy Jason, she had insisted that he allow her some freedom and alone time. Although he had conceded, her guard had been ordered to follow her every move.

"Truth be told," the Cuban continued, recapturing her attention away from her own private thoughts. "It's just hard for me to imagine Luke Spencer as a grandfather. Being a decent dad was hard enough for him."

"Yeah, well, Luke has nothing to do with Cameron. In fact, for that matter, I'm the only family that Cam has."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Sonny sympathized sincerely. "I take it they didn't approve of your decision to keep and raise your son?"

Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth launched into a story she typically hated sharing but found herself almost relieved in telling the older man. "I didn't find out that I was pregnant until after Lucky's death. As you know, since you were at the funeral, his family didn't take his loss too well."

"No parent takes losing a child well, sweetheart."

Curious, she quirked a brow, changing the subject slightly, fully aware that, eventually, they would work their way back to her own history. "You sound as if you know that first hand."

"As a matter of fact, I do," the ex-mob boss shared. He pivoted on the park bench then, turning so that he was facing forward and not looking directly at her anymore. Folding his hands across his lap, Sonny stared off sightlessly into the wide, open expanse of the Port Charles park, and, while he seemed to be gathering his thoughts, the young waitress simply waited patiently.

"I was married before, did you know that," he finally asked her, still not glancing in her direction.

"No," Elizabeth answered, slightly surprised. "I knew of you, of course, because of Luke and Lucky, but they never mentioned that you had a wife."

"Well, by the time you and Lucky became serious, she was already dead," he responded, sounding both remorseful and resigned to his former wife's fate. "Lily, that was her name, and I were only married a short time when she died, but the night that she was murdered, we had just found out that she was pregnant."

"Oh, Sonny, I'm so sorry," the single mother breathed out, but he waved off her apologies, her compassion, and pressed on with his account.

"I loved my wife, don't get me wrong, but I wasn't in love with her," the Cuban shared. "But I was excited about the prospect of having a child, and, when I lost them both, I was… well, to put it bluntly, I was devastated. I couldn't think straight, I couldn't make a sound decision to save my life, let alone protect those who depended upon me to look out for them, and I honestly think I would have gone completely insane if it weren't for Jason… and Brenda. They pulled me out of the darkest place I've ever been.

"Anyway," he sighed, finally looking at her once more out of the corner of his eye. "I guess you could say that I know some of the pain that Luke and Laura experienced when Lucky died in that fire. I'm just disappointed that I couldn't be here to help them grieve or to help them adjust to the idea that you were pregnant with their grandson."

"There was no way that you could have known, and I wouldn't have expected you to put your life on hold to help out a friend. Luke wouldn't have expected that of you either, Sonny," Elizabeth attempted to reassure him. "You have to know that."

"I do," he agreed, grinning slightly in understanding with the brunette. "But that doesn't change the way I feel. But that's enough about me," he announced, crossing his legs in an effort to become more comfortable, almost as though he was settling in for a long conversation. "You were telling me about yourself and your little boy."

"Really, there isn't much to tell," the twenty-two year old shared. "The Spencer's simply couldn't deal with the loss of their son, and I honestly don't blame them for that. Would I have appreciated their support, their understanding when it came to my pregnancy, of course," she answered, shrugging to show that the past truly was water under the bridge as far as her son's paternal grandparents were concerned. "But my own family, they're another story.

"My pregnancy, for them, was simply an embarrassment. I'm not sure how much you know about the Hardy's and the Webbers, but they're a very proud group of people. They're the best, most respected doctors in town, and they take pride in their reputation, so, when the youngest of their family went out and got herself knocked up with a dead kid's baby at eighteen, to say that they were less than thrilled… Well, you get the picture, I'm sure."

"Okay, so you made a mistake," Sonny explained away her actions. "So what? Everybody does at one point or another. I'm sure they've gotten over it by now."

"Who, my family," she laughed then, rolling her eyes. "Hardly. Every day that I continue to raise my son on my own without their help, they see as an affront, but, at the same time, they go out of their way to make sure that no one else can help me either. When I applied for government assistance, they had the Quartermaines block my application, no doubt both out of punishment for disappointing them and tainting the Hardy-Webber name and as a means to continue to control me despite the fact that they proclaim they want nothing to do with either me or my son."

Grimacing, the retired crime lord stated, "that's just twisted, sweetheart. How anybody could be that cruel to someone they, at least, at one point, proclaimed to love, I'll never know."

"You and me both," Elizabeth agreed, standing up and resituating her coat. "Well, it's been nice talking to you again." Nodding towards her guard, she smirked. "And sorry about Will. He's a little overzealous, been told not to let anyone approach me, but it's my life, and I decide who I want to be friends with, not some gun-toting automaton."

"No apologies necessary," the Cuban reassured her, waving off her concerns. "You forget that I once lived that life. I understand its drawbacks."

"Well, it's getting late, and I need to get Cameron home for dinner. I'll see you around, Sonny."

-

And she did see him around.

Two days later, feeling stifled at work, she was taking her lunch break out on the docks, the fresh air doing wonders for her mood as she sat on the bench and took in the view of the harbor. It was bustling that afternoon, full of life as the ships docked, unloaded, and then left port once more. It made Elizabeth yearn for a job where she could be just as free as the crewmen, working outside and far away from her stuffy patrons and her even stuffier employers.

"You have to be freezing out here," Sonny said in greeting as he came down the steps towards her. "Here," he offered, handing her a cup of coffee he had obviously just purchased for himself. "Drink this, please, before you catch your death of hypothermia."

She laughed then, thankful for his company. While just minutes before she had believed that she wanted to be alone, the truth of the matter was that she just didn't want to be with people who disapproved of her any longer, and that was one thing Sonny never did. "I have a coat on."

"Yes, and it looks about as thin as the cotton shirts I wear when I'm on my island."

Eyes wide with shock, she asked, "You have your own island? I thought only movie stars were that eccentric, not to mention wealthy."

The Cuban flashed her his dimples in what could only be described as an infectious grin before responding, "not quite. Money is one thing I've never have to worry about, and, as far as eccentricity goes, I think the fact that I own my own island has more to do with security reasons and less to do with wanting to be unconventional."

"Aw, yes, _security_," the single mother said knowing. Hitching a thumb over her should towards a silently scowling Will, she deadpanned, "how could I forget?"

But Sonny just shrugged, sitting down beside her as he got comfortable. "So, what are you doing out here on what has to be the coldest day of the year so far?"

"I'm on break, and, well, I guess I just sort of needed one." Taking a sip of his offered coffee without putting up a protest for she already knew it would be futile, the brunette returned his question. "And you?"

"I wanted to clear my head. I've had a lot on my mind recently."

Starting to stand up, she offered, "Oh, well, if you want to be alone," but, before she could even get properly to her feet, the ex-mob boss' hand was reaching out and grasping her by her elbow, very gently returning her to her former seated position.

"This – talking to you – is a better option," he reassured her, "especially since you apparently knew Jason well."

"You've been thinking about Jason?"

Of all the possible things that Sonny wanted to talk about, his former partner and sometimes rival was the last thing she wanted to discuss with her new friend. Not only was she uncomfortable lying to the man sitting across from her, but she wasn't sure she would be able to keep up the lie well enough to convince Sonny that she and Jason had actually been involved. Even though she still didn't believe Jason when he said that the Cuban was dangerous and a threat to all of them, she also didn't want to be the one to blow their cover.

Bringing her back to the present and away from her own thoughts, the retired kingpin sighed. "I miss him, you know."

Not wanting to say something inappropriate, Elizabeth decided just to remain silent, hoping that her friend would take the quiet as her sign to him that she was interested and listening attentively. Evidently, he did, for it only took Sonny a few moments before he started to explain. "Before things went bad between us, I saw Jason as the brother I never had. I mentored him, and he actually listened to my advice as though I was the wisest person in the world. And he talked to me, too, not like I was his boss or the man who brought him into the organization but as his friend. He told me about his days, about the women he was…"

The young waitress laughed then at the older man's expense. "It's alright for you to say it, Sonny. He told you about the women he was sleeping with. Remember, I'm a mother. I'm no innocent."

"But you are a lady, and I don't think a gentleman should be so frank about things when in the company of a lady," he told her, and, if he hadn't seemed so sincere, she would have laughed again at the absurdity of his statement. "Anyway," Sonny drawled, sounding miserable. "Do you know that the only reason I came back to town was to find a way to salvage my relationship with him, but then I get here, and I find out that I'm too late, that he's already dead, and I just..."

Taking a deep breath, the Cuban asked, "what if I would have come back just a month earlier? Could I have prevented this from happening?" Clearing his throat of apparent emotion, the twenty-two year old was startled when the former crime lord apologized. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth. You don't need me coming around and bringing up something that will only hurt you more. After all, you loved him, too."

"Wait, Sonny, who said anything about love?"

He fixed her with a pointed stare, and she found herself gulping anxiously in response. "You yourself told me that the two of you were close. While I don't think that I know everything about you, I do think I know you well enough to state with conviction that you wouldn't be involved with a man that you didn't care deeply for, and, even if you would do such a thing, Jason wouldn't since you have a child."

"I… uh…" Flustered, she stood. Their conversation had taken a turn that she was unprepared for. There had been no one since Lucky had died; hell, she hadn't even entertained the thought of there ever being another man. Her life revolved around her son, taking care of Cameron, providing for him, protecting him, so there was no room for anything else, anyone else, and, even though she never would be able to see Jason Morgan in the role that Sonny was presenting to her, the idea of anyone being in her life like that threw her.

"I have to go," she stated with conviction, already turning to leave. "Uh, thanks for the coffee, Sonny." Without glancing again in the Cuban's direction, she ran away, eager to escape both from her friend's presence and from his prying if not misguided questions.

-

Sonny Corinthos was everywhere – even at the laundry mat on Sunday morning when she was doing her laundry before work.

"If I didn't know any better," she teased him when he appeared at her side out of the blue, "I would think that you were stalking me."

"Actually, I was just taking a walk, and, when I saw you in here, I wanted to come in and apologize."

"Really, Sonny," she tried to tell him, "that's not necessary," but he wouldn't hear any of what she had to say.

"No, you're wrong. I do need to tell you that I'm sorry. I had no right to bring up Jason with you – again, for that matter, especially since it's obvious that you're still very much grieving. Just know that it won't happen again."

Despite not being in mourning for a man that wasn't even dead, the single mother decided then and there to take advantage of the Cuban's gesture. "Thanks. I appreciate that."

"Good, now that we have that out of the way, why don't you tell me what had you so distracted while I was walking past?" When she went to argue with him, he interrupted her. "And don't try denying it. Your head was in the clouds about something, and my curiosity is piqued. What was making you smile like that?"

Giving in rather easily, she admitted, "I was just remembering how much I loved painting. You know, it's been years since I've picked up a brush, but sometimes, when I least expect it, I get this sudden urge to stretch canvases or I'll get a flash of a new concept for a series that I would like to paint. It's weird, you know," she confided with a dismissive shrug of her shoulders, "how our brains won't allow us to let go of some things like that."

"Well, if I recall correctly, painting was once your passion."

"Yep," Elizabeth remarked, agreeing with him. "Painting and Lucky."

The retired mob boss laughed at her statement before asking, "why did you ever stop?"

"Come on, Sonny," she challenged, turning away to fold the laundry waiting for her in the dryer. "I was a single mother at the age of eighteen. Why do you think?" Answering her own question for him, she stated, "I couldn't afford the supplies, let alone find the chance to keep up such a time consuming hobby."

"Well, that's certainly a shame, because you were good."

Rolling her eyes, she dismissed his praise. "Whatever you say."

"No, seriously," he argued, bumping her hip slightly as he silently told her to scoot over and make room for him. Reaching for one of Cam's shirts, he started to help her fold the laundry. "And I'm going to stay here and help you until you agree with me."

"That's never going to happen, at least, not about this."

But she wouldn't dispute the idea of his company. That she enjoyed too much.


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: Just as a warning for all my readers, I might not be able to post several times a week for a little while. I've been subbing quite a bit this past week, and, afterwards, I go directly to my regular job, so I'm home enough to sleep, eat, and, occasionally, post a few things online. Plus, I fear that I'm getting sick, and, frankly, I just want to sleep; writing is the last thing on my mind right now. Luckily for you, however, I have some back chapters saved up to post, so that's what you're getting this evening. Hopefully, it'll help to tide you over until the next post. :) Thanks for being so understanding, as always, and thanks for all your wonderful, insightful comments. As for this post, I think this chapter will shed some light onto the whole Sonny vs. Jason situation. We're going to be kicking the action into high gear, so be prepared. However, I will caution you to not jump to conclusions. There is more to what is going on here than what I have already revealed. Enjoy!_

_~Charlynn~_

**Safe… No More**

**Chapter Twelve  
FNF#21: ****There are things that we don't want to happen but have to accept, things we don't want to know but have to learn, and people we can't live without but have to let go. ~ Unknown Author**

It was a rare occurrence for Elizabeth Webber to have a good day, so, when those few and far between experiences came about, she made sure that she took advantage of them. Nothing on those days could spoil her good mood… not even a sullen and hostile Jason Morgan.

The sun had been out that morning when she woke up early to take care of Cameron. Her little boy had been extra cuddly, wanting her to hold him while he ate breakfast, and she relished in the closeness. Then, at work, her morning shift had flown by. Not a single customer had been rude to her, and, for some reason she really didn't care to know and just wanted to enjoy, Mr. Quartermaine had been unable to stop by the restaurant. That meant that her hours at The Grille flew by without harassment or contempt, and, by the time she got back to the safe house, she was so at peace and content that even finding out that Jason and Cameron had gone out for a walk in the woods couldn't dim the smile that warmed up her fresh, young face.

And things had only gotten better from there. She had just collapsed onto the couch in the living room, her feet tucked up underneath her with a steaming cup of hot chocolate held tightly in both hands when there was a knock at the door. Although she knew that the guard would handle the situation, it was the first time such an event had ever occurred while she had been staying in one of Jason's homes – whether with his permission or not, and she was curious. Setting the cup of hot cocoa aside, she had proceeded to get up, determined to investigate.

However, snooping hadn't been necessary. Before she could even reach the kitchen window to glance outside, her guard was pushing open the back door, calling out for her. "Miss Webber," he greeted, a surprised yet not unpleasant grin tilting up the corners of his lips. No matter what she said or did, he refused to call her by her first name, stoically voicing the fact that Mr. Morgan wouldn't approve of such informalities. Ending her curiosity, Will shared, "it's a package for you. I hope you don't mind, but I checked it out already, for security reasons, you know, and it's clean, so…"

"Thank you," the single mother said sincerely, moving swiftly across the tiled floor to remove the package from his arms. "I'll take it from here."

"Well, okay, but there's more."

If possible, her sapphire orbs grew even wider. "More?"

"Uh, yeah, Miss Webber," the guard explained. "There's an easel out here, too, and some blank canvases. The boss really went all out. Hell, I didn't even know that you were an artist, and here he is buying out an entire art supply store for you. I've never seen him do anything like this before… for anyone, and I've worked for Mr. Morgan for years… since before he even took over the organization."

Elizabeth knew that the reason the gesture seemed so uncharacteristic for Jason was because he wasn't the one who had purchased the gift for her, and she wanted to ask Will if, instead, the act reminded him of the man he used to work for before his current boss stole the business right out from underneath Sonny, but she didn't. It wasn't the guard's fault that Jason Morgan was a cold, calculating bastard, and she refused to either take out her dislike for the mob boss upon his employee or ruin her good day with thoughts of the man she loathed so much.

Rather, she smiled in the guard's direction, a genuine expression of joy and gratitude, and asked him, "would you help me take everything into my room? I want to get it all set up so that I can start painting right away."

"Sure, Miss Webber," Will agreed without delay. Without another word shared between them, he moved back out onto the porch, and she headed towards her bedroom, knowing that the security expert would be directly behind her.

Thankfully, despite being a larger, more comfortable residence, their current safe house was just as barrenly decorated as the others she had stayed at before. While the rooms were appropriately appointed, there were no unnecessary touches of decoration or luxury. Her room housed a simple yet adequate full bed, a single nightstand, and a dresser for her few, meager clothing items, leaving the rest of the large room empty and available for use. After Will positioned her new easel between the two windows that occupied the space, affording her the best light she could possibly get in the bedroom, the guard left her alone, and she set about opening up the rest of the supplies and arranging them on the top of her bare chest of drawers.

The wide, empty space would serve as a perfect storage unit for her new brushes, bottles of paint, sketch pads, charcoals, and everything else that Sonny had sent her. What she couldn't store on top of the dresser could be placed inside the empty drawers. Before she knew it, what had once been her bedroom was suddenly transformed into a makeshift studio, and Elizabeth was fairly dancing on the balls of her feet as she flittered about the room, preparing to attack her first canvas.

It had been years since she had held a paintbrush, but it felt like just a few, fleeting hours. As oddly as it sounded, it was just like riding a bike or jumping rope. Though the skill had become unpracticed, that did not mean that her body forgot how to do it. Immediately, her mind was filled with thousands of ideas, things she wanted to paint, techniques she wanted to try, and nothing could distract her, not even the sound of her three year old returning from his adventure in the forest.

While her brush flew across the canvas, its white, harsh boundaries slowly taking shape into a bright, meaningful painting, she listened to her son as he chattered away out in the living room, rambling on as only Cameron could while Jason, she could only assume, helped the toddler remove his winter coat, boots, mittens, scarf, and hat. She listened as her little boy relived everything that they had seen on their walk – a fox running through the thick trees, a deer stopping for a drink at a tiny, little stream, and the way their voices echoed through the woods, and she smiled at the sound of the three year old's happiness.

While Jason Morgan certainly wouldn't be her first choice when it came to a healthy male influence in her son's life, she realized then and there that Cam could have done worse. Despite the fact that Jason treated her horribly, he did seem to like her son. He was patient with the little boy, respectful, and, ever since that fateful night when Cameron had walked in on them fighting, he acted as though he was walking on eggshells around the toddler. Soon, they would go back to their normal lives, lives independent of the crime lord, but, until that happened, the young waitress decided then and there that she wouldn't prevent her son from spending as much time with Jason as possible. No, she didn't want him to get attached to the mob boss, but a little sadness when they were separated was worth Cameron obtaining a few weeks of camaraderie with an older, male friend, and, once her little boy and Jason were in fact no longer around one another, she thought she might look into a mentoring program for the three year old.

"Hey, Cam," she heard Jason instruct her toddler. "Why don't you go wash your hands for dinner, and I'll go find out what your mom's up to, okay?"

When she heard her little boy's feet pound down the hallway towards the bathroom they used and then his "hey mommy" as he passed by her open doorway, she knew that her son had obliged the kingpin's wishes, but, still, she didn't stop painting. She didn't want to put her paintbrush down, and she wondered, after being forced into not painting for so long, if she was even capable of doing such a thing. Despite the fact that she had to work the next morning, Elizabeth knew that she would paint all night, never once breaking to sleep, and she even found herself looking forward to the physical and creative exhaustion that would come with so many hours standing before her new easel. The only time she would break from her artwork would be to take care of Cameron; her own needs would simply have to wait.

Although she never heard Jason approach, she knew when he came to stand in the doorway of her bedroom. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and she started to fidget under his penetrating stare. Without glancing in his direction, she knew that he was watching her closely, his piercing, arctic eyes narrowed in concentration and question, and, when he spoke, she involuntarily shivered. Why she had such a reaction to his presence, the single mother did not know. "What's all this? I, uh, didn't know you painted."

"I don't," she answered, shrugging her shoulder lightly but still refusing to look at him. "At least, I haven't for a really long time."

"What made you start today," the blonde wanted to know.

Finally, she put her paint brush down and pivoted on her feet to face the mob boss. "Considering my lifestyle, I hardly think that I'm one who should turn down such a generous gift, and, even if I wanted to, it's painting. I was powerless to say no."

As soon as the words left her mouth, the single mother could see him visibly stiffen across from her. "What do you mean this was a gift?"

"How else would I come by all this stuff?" To emphasize her point, she swept her hands across the room, showing Jason just how many things had been presented to her. "Do you have any idea how expensive art supplies…"

Before she could complete her sentence, the crime lord was storming across the room. He picked up the box, and, with wide, angry sweeps of his arms, knocked all her neatly arranged brushes, bottles of paints, sketch pads, and charcoals into the once empty cardboard package. When that was finished, he threw open her drawers, tossing her clothes onto the bed and throwing the remaining art supplies back into the box they came from. Leaving the dresser open and rummaged through, Jason proceeded to stalk towards her, roughly pushing her aside to get to the easel erected proudly behind her.

In horror, she watched as he ripped her unfinished canvas from its resting place, slamming it face down onto the ground. He stomped on it a few times, breaking through the delicate material, before turning to break apart the easel on which it had just proudly stood. Unabashedly crying, her hands shaking in both fright and dejection while tears streamed down her pale, suddenly clammy face, Elizabeth brokenly sobbed out, "what… why are you doing this? Do you honestly hate me this much?"

Spinning around, the mob boss confronted her, gripping her tightly by the shoulders so she couldn't look away as he yelled. "Don't you get it?" When she didn't respond, he shook her slightly. "Sonny did this. He was the one who sent you these supplies."

Although it wasn't a question, the young brunette found herself answering anyway. "Yes, he did."

"Don't you realize what that means, Elizabeth?" Letting her go, Jason paced away from her, his steps quick yet lethal. "He knows that you're living here, you and your son. That means that he had someone follow you here, and that means that he probably knows that I'm not dead. This… this gift," to emphasize his words, he kicked the box of art supplies. "It was a threat."

"No, you don't understand," she pleaded with him, desperate to both have her things back and the calm and happiness they had all been experiencing just moments before. "He remembered that I was an artist years ago… or that I, at least, dreamed of becoming one, and, even if he does know that you're alive, he's not after you, Jason. I'm sure of it. He… he's kind to me. He listens, he makes me laugh, and he doesn't think that I'm a bad person just because I made a few mistakes. He's my friend, and he just wants to be your friend again, too. He told me as much just…"

"Don't be so naïve, Elizabeth," Jason interrupted her, moving towards the closet where she kept her duffle bags in order to start packing her clothes. "He's telling you whatever it is he thinks you want to hear, because he's using you."

Instead of responding to his accusations, she instead lobbed one of her own, going back to her previous line of questioning that had gone unanswered. "Why do you hate me so much?"

And, unbelievably, the kingpin actually answered. "I don't hate you," he sighed, still packing and still refusing to look her directly in the eye. "I hate what you make me remember. I hate who you remind me of. I hate the fact that the past still can make me so angry, and then I hate that I take that anger out on you despite the fact that I know it's not your fault. It's this… it's a cycle, and I don't know how to break it, and I hate that, too."

Hiccupping, she moved towards him and attempted to pull his hands away from his present task. "I don't understand."

But, instead, he just tossed her touch aside, sweeping past her and moving rapidly towards the door. "Take Will, take Max, and take Cameron, and get the hell out of here. Tell them to bring you back in an hour, and, when you arrive, we're leaving."

"Leaving?"

"We're moving to another safe house. Obviously, this one has been compromised."

She wanted to argue with him, wanted to protest because he had promised her little boy a swing set, but she didn't. Knowing well enough that such objections would go unheard with Jason at that point, she simply left the blonde to his frenzied packing. Wordlessly, she gathered up her scared son who had been listening the entire time as she and the mob boss fought, and they left, as instructed, taking both guards with them.

Numbly, she rode in the back of the car with a silent Cameron all the way to the park. When they arrived at their destination, they made their way towards the playground. Mutely, her three year old went and sat down at the sandbox where he listlessly played as though the action was a chore and not something he enjoyed. Max stood beside the wooden structure, guarding her little boy, and Will stood behind where she was seated dazedly on the park bench.

Although her eyes never left her son, it wasn't until she heard someone scream that she truly became aware of their surroundings. Glancing in the harrowing sound's direction, she saw a child, another little boy who had been spending his evening in the park playing, crumpled up, unmoving, beneath the swing set, the swing he had been sitting upon resting on top of his lifeless form. The chains had both been snapped.

Without thought, both guards rushed to the wailing mother's side just as she ran to her own child's. Picking Cam up, she shielded his gaze, not wanting him to see the dead toddler with the broken neck. Silently, she cried for the mourning parent and the loss of such an innocent life, the tears tracking down her already tear stained face stinging her skin thanks to the harsh, late winter wind.

Eventually, the ambulance and the police arrived, and a crowd gathered in the park. Just like with any tragedy, people seemed to flock to the scene of the crime, and it reminded her of the night that Lucky had died in the garage fire. In the chaos surrounding the playground, people moved back and forth, some brushing against her in their haste to get a glimpse of the catastrophe she had, unfortunately, been a witness to, but, unable to watch the misery any longer, she retreated back to the park bench, intent upon waiting respectfully for the guards to return so they could head back to the safe house.

But, when she sat down, there was a whisper of a sound that emanated from her coat pocket, and, if she didn't know better, she would have believed it to be the crinkling of a light piece of paper. If Elizabeth was surprised that she would even notice such a slight detail in the face of such a misfortune, she shouldn't have been. After all, it was the small things that she remembered from the night that her son's father had died. She recalled the slippers she had worn to the crime scene in her haste to rush to Lucky in order to make sure that he was alright. She recalled the way the smoke had made her nose run even before she came face to face with the engulfed garage. And she recalled how scratchy Sonny Corinthos' coat was when he caught her as she fell to the ground in grief.

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled the note out, her brow furrowing when she realized the missive had not been her jacket when she had left for the park just a mere thirty-five minutes before. Unfolding it, her eyes quickly scanned the stark, white paper. As the words registered in her mind, she started to scream, calling out for both Will and Max as Cameron squeezed her even tighter in his confusion and fear.

Max was the first one to reach her side, and she shoved the note into his leather gloved hands. "It says that my little boy… that Cameron…" Struggling with her words, she looked up at the guard's concerned face, her own stricken with panic. Finishing her thought, she spoke up once again just as Will joined them, "that next time it could be him."

"Call Jason," the senior guard ordered, already ushering all of them out of the park and towards the car. "Tell him," he ordered his inferior, "that we have another problem."


	13. Chapter 13

**Safe… No More**

**Chapter Thirteen  
FNF#22: Love is staying up all night with a sick child--or a healthy adult. ~ Sir David Paradine Frost**

Scrubbing a hand roughly over his face, Jason could admit that he was exhausted. Without the added stress of the threat against Cameron's life, the previous evening still would have been draining. Between packing, relocating, and his constant battle of wills with Elizabeth, the mob boss hadn't been in need of anything else to add stress to his already strained and heavily weighed down shoulders. So, to get a call from Max, to find out that a little boy under his protection was at risk, and to realize that, no matter what he did, he couldn't seem to protect the two innocents he had foolishly brought into his life in some ridiculous, juvenile quest for payback, it had made what would have been a tiring night sleepless.

Sonny had always known when it was best to strike.

But Jason couldn't focus on what he had done wrong the last few days. Rather, he needed to be proactive; he needed to finally get ahead in the dangerous cat and mouse game being played and make sure that no one else got hurt. And the only way he could do this was if he stopped thinking like a man and, instead, thought like the mob boss he was.

In an effort to not rock the boat further with the single mother, he had allowed Elizabeth to get under his skin. He had made concessions for her that, otherwise, he would have refused to even consider. Because he was so tired of fighting with her, he had taken the easy road, ignoring his better instincts, and, because of his lack of judgment, a child had died.

Well, not anymore.

Bending forward to use one, calloused hand to shake the waitress' shoulder, he waited for her to recognize the stimuli and respond to it accordingly. Standing back up to his full height, Jason squared his shoulders, folded his arms across his chest, and stifled a yawn. A steaming, bracing cup of coffee in that moment would have done him a world of good, but they had been in too much of a hurry the night before to get everyone to safety to worry about either packing the groceries or buying new ones, but he'd have to send someone out soon, for, when Cameron woke up, he would want his breakfast. At least, that much of the little boy's life he would be able to keep consistent.

After several minutes, all of which the mob boss filled with jumbled, disjointed thought thanks to his extreme fatigue, Elizabeth finally woke up, her blurry eyes fluttering rapidly before she eventually opened them fully. Shock, awareness, and a hint of fear colored the blue depths before she remembered to shield her emotions from him, and Jason found himself wondering if she was afraid of him or of what circumstances might dictate that he tell her. He hoped that it was the latter.

"Uh," he started awkwardly only to reach up and distractedly scratch his left eyebrow with his right hand, the movement blocking most of her view of his face. "Can you, uh…"

"Shut up," the brunette snapped, already climbing out of the large bed. Wordlessly, she turned her back to him and covered her son so that he was snug and warm in the numerous blankets, and, once she was sure that Cameron would be alright, she led their way out of the bedroom, silently closing the door behind them.

"Do you have any idea how long it took me to get my little boy to go to sleep last night," she asked rhetorically. "He's scared, he's confused, and he's in yet another new place. Even when I was on my own, I didn't move him around this much." Sighing, she ran a hand through her mussed hair, her fingers catching slightly on the tangled curls. "What do you want, Jason?"

At first, he couldn't respond. What he had expected to find when he woke the twenty-two year old, he wasn't sure, but, as soon as he saw her toss back the covers just minutes before, he knew that confronting her while she was still in bed had been a mistake, and watching her lift an arm to mess with her hair just made the situation worse.

He wasn't blind. He was well aware of the fact that Elizabeth Webber was a beautiful woman… at least, physically. Personality wise, she drove him to distraction. All they seemed to do was yell at each other, and that was on a good day. But, no matter what, he was a man, and, as he watched her stand before him in a short, well-worn t-shirt, the length of it barely brushing against the tops of her thighs, he was quickly reminded of the fact that she was a woman, a very attractive one at that. And, apparently, since she seemed absolutely unaffected by their present situation, the sexual desire was completely one sided between them.

The realization only seemed to make him annoyed with her once again.

Snapping her fingers before his dazed face, the young woman asked, "hey, where did you go," and, immediately, he jerked to attention.

"There are going to be some new rules around here." As soon as the sentence left his mouth, he watched Elizabeth's as it opened in protest but, then, shut again rapidly as she just glowered in his direction, waiting for his commands. Impatiently, irritably, she mimicked his stance, crossing her own slender forearms over her chest. The movement only seemed to draw the material of her shirt tighter against her breasts, emphasizing their shape, though it was obvious the mother had no idea what her actions were doing to her appearance… or to him.

"First of all," Jason spit out, ticking off his conditions upon his long, lean digits. "You're going to quit your job. It's too dangerous for you to be there right now, and, even if I wasn't concerned about your welfare, you shouldn't put innocent people's lives at risk by continuing to be stubborn. Anything that you or Cameron need, I'll pay for."

Snidely, the brunette queried, "but I thought it was too dangerous for you to access your own money."

Simply stated, he responded, "things have changed. Secondly," the crime lord continued, not giving his coerced roommate a chance to argue, "there will be no more trips to the park. I don't care how caged in you or your son feel, this is not something I'm willing to bend on."

Her jaw clenched in fury, and her deep, blue eyes snapped with sparks of liquid rage, but, still, the young waitress kept her tongue in check. "Is there anything else, _master_?"

Her final word was leveled to injure, and it squarely hit its mark. However, the kingpin refused to let her see that she had the power to touch him, let alone hurt him. "Yes," he answered. "If, for some reason, there is an errand that you absolutely have to run, then I will be going with you. And do not even try to fight me on this, Elizabeth. These rules are non-negotiable."

Finally and he knew it had to be coming, she exploded. "Oh, I don't care about your fucking rules," the twenty-two year old hissed, stalking towards him, a single finger leveled towards his chest in accusation. "You can take them and stick them where the sun doesn't shine for all I care. What I want to know is why the hell you insist upon keeping us here." Bitterly, as if the thought alone made bile rise to her throat, she added her parting shot, "with _you_."

Just as angry, he aimed back, "do you think I actually want to be around you?"

"I don't know, Jason," she shrugged, clearly confused and using that to fuel her conclusion. "Do you?"

"Of course not," the blonde defended, glaring at her. "From the moment I first saw you again, you have been nothing but an inconvenience. Instead of focusing on my recovery, I had to worry about keeping you from doing something foolish. Then, to make matters worse, you went out and befriended the man who tried to have me killed."

"Says you. There's no proof that Sonny was the one to bomb your precious building which, by the way, was once his before you stole it right out from underneath him."

"Why can't you, just once, trust me, believe that I'm telling you the truth?"

"And why can't you just let us go," she fired back, suddenly sounding desperate. The rage left her voice, and, quickly, her entire demeanor shifted from confrontational to almost pleading. "Look, Jason, you're almost healed. I've done my part. I've fulfilled my promise, so, please, just let me take my son and leave. I swear that you'll never see or hear from me again. We won't trespass on your properties anymore. Hell, I'll even leave town if you want. I realize now that it's what I should have done years ago, but, sentimentally, I just couldn't leave the only place where I still had memories of Lucky. But he's gone, and I've moved on. I've grieved, so it's time for me to make a home somewhere else for me and my little boy, somewhere where maybe it'll be possible for us to…"

"You can't leave, Elizabeth," he whispered, obvious regret in his tone.

For the first time since the night he had stumbled into the safe house only to find her ready to flee with her three year old son, the woman before him became vulnerable in front of his very eyes. "But why? I don't understand. Please, you don't need me anymore, so just let me take Cameron far, far away from you."

"It's too late for that," Jason confessed, realizing that he sounded just as weary as she sounded desperate. "While you may be right, I don't need you anymore, you do need me."

Stubbornly, she refuted. "I don't need anyone."

"Whether you like it or not, whether I like it or not, for that matter," he explained, "you're involved now, and my enemies, whoever they may be," the mob boss offered to stem away another argument, "know that, for one reason or another, you and your little boy matter to me."

"But that's just it," the brunette cried out impatiently. "I don't understand why you care."

Frustrated and displeased that she was forcing his hand and making him admit to things that he never wanted to have to acknowledge to her, Jason exploded, "don't you get it? It's because of me that you're a single parent in the first place!"

Bewilderment scrunched up her otherwise innocent, pretty face. "Jason…?"

Exhaling harshly, the kingpin rubbed both of his hands over his weary face. Turning his back to her, he leaned against the hallway wall. If he was going to say what he was about to, then there was no way he'd be able to see her face as he said it. "I know that you remember me from… before… when Lucky was still alive. He lived above _my _garage."

When she didn't interject, he pressed on. "Despite the fact that he and Sonny were friends, Luke knew a good business move when he saw one, so, even after I took over the organization, he didn't severe our partnership. I remained in Sonny's place as his silent backer for the club, and he dabbled in some of my other ventures, and, as a favor to him, when his son moved out of the house, I gave him a place to live, making sure that the rent was high enough on the room that Lucky wouldn't question my motives but low enough that he could still afford the place."

Swallowing roughly, he skipped over all the information he had on why, of all the buildings he owned, that particular one had been targeted and set ablaze and simply jumped to his own guilt in the matter. "The father of your child died because someone was targeting me, because someone was coming at me through my businesses, and, while I might have played a part in your struggles as Cam's only parent, I refuse to be the reason why your son is left an orphan. So, there you have it," he admitted, twisting back around to face the silently crying waitress. "That's why I care, and that's why you're going to do what I say, when I say it, and you're not going to fight me. Not on this, Elizabeth."

She surprised him when she walked forward, placing a comforting hand on his tense shoulder. "It's not your fault, Jason. I never… I don't blame you."

"Yeah, well, maybe I blame myself."

"Look, I don't want your pity," the young mother stated, her words a simple fact and not laced with resentment. "And I don't want to be some cross you bear out of guilt. While you might not trust Sonny, I do, and he offered to help Cameron and me, so let him. Let him protect us instead."

He had finally opened up to her, he had told her why it was so important to him for her to trust him, and, immediately, once more, she threw Sonny and their laughable, sham of a friendship in his face. Instantly, the mask descended again, and he closed himself off to her. "I'm sorry, but that's impossible." When she went to protest, he shut her down the quickest and easiest way possible: he told her the harsh, ugly truth. "Sonny's dead… on my orders."

And, with that, he walked down the hall and into the living room, leaving her standing there in both soundless shock and muted grief.


	14. Chapter 14

**Safe… No More**

**Chapter Fourteen  
FNF#23: ****Amare non è guardarsi l'un l'altro, ma guardare insieme nella stessa direzione. **_**[Translation: **_**_Love is not just looking at each other, it's looking in the same direction.]_**

When considering how tumultuous their relationship had been thus far, it was hard to organize and list their various fights in order from least offensive to most, but Elizabeth knew that the argument she had shared with Jason that morning had, so far, been their worst yet. Just recalling the things that they had screamed at each other made her shudder and attempt to turn away from the memories. But that was impossible. Realistically, the twenty-two year old wondered if the harsh, bitter words would ever fade from her mind.

For some reason, no one could get her more upset, more irritated than Jason, and, at the same time, she seemed to effortlessly return the favor for him. Put the two of them and their volatile tempers in the same room together when there was something for them to disagree on, and an eruption was bound to occur. There was no avoiding their confrontations, and it seemed as though there was no curtailing them and certainly no chance of minimizing their damage. They both went into the fights with their eyes and ears wide open, fully aware that Cameron was always underfoot, but that level of consciousness did nothing to ebb the ugly accusations and hurtful proclamations. No matter what, they would both end up shouting anything and everything they thought of that could hurt the other, her son's presence be damned.

The worst part was that Cam almost seemed adjusted to the standoffs at that point. Sure, he would cower away from their loud voices and frustrated diatribes, but he didn't try to prevent their stalemates, and he certainly didn't jump in the middle anymore, determined to protect her. Whether he realized that Jason wasn't actually going to physically hurt her or if he just sensed that his mom could take care of herself, Elizabeth didn't ask. Truthfully, either response from the toddler would have been disheartening. Instead, he just quietly would hide in his room, playing with his toys until the smoke cleared and the two adversaries had, once again, retreated to their temporary corners of truce.

However, that morning, things had been somewhat different. After their fight, Jason had stormed out of the safehouse, leaving them alone and Elizabeth, apparently, the victor. After arguing with her for nearly an hour, something inside the mob boss had snapped, and he had retreated in defeat, his silence permitting her the chance to do what she wanted in the first place. Although the single mother wasn't sure what button she had pushed in the blonde to get him to surrender so suddenly, she had accepted his submission, immediately setting forth to prepare for Sonny's funeral.

She wasn't naïve, and she liked to think that she wasn't stupid. However, at the same time, Elizabeth simply could not accept all the terrible things Jason told her about Sonny to be true. While she understood that the Cuban had some less than perfect personality traits, to reconcile the man she knew with the monster her forced roommate was trying to get her to see was impossible. Sonny had his flaws, but the young waitress firmly believed that using and targeting her and her son wasn't one of them.

But it was too late to argue Sonny's case to Jason; it was too late to explain to the crime lord that his former friend had returned to town with the hope of recapturing their relationship and not in an effort to retake what was once his, not only because the younger man had, through orders, had his onetime mentor murdered but also because Jason was too stubborn and too determined to listen to anything she had to say. Why, though, Elizabeth wasn't sure.

Jason Morgan was certainly not a perfect man, by any means, but, of all his failings, she didn't believe him to be sexist. Now, he certainly didn't respect her opinion, but she sensed his lack of trust towards her was born more from specifics and not a gender generalization. Rather, whenever they disputed her connection with Sonny, there seemed to be something that the kingpin held back, that he refused to tell her, and she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that his secret was what poisoned him against her opinion. There was something Jason Morgan believed he knew to be true that he refused to share with her that clouded and bled through into every single decision he made concerning both she and Sonny. Despite being in the dark about what Jason's mystery accusation was, the brunette waitress still trusted her friendship with the older man, and that's why she was at his funeral that afternoon.

It had been three days since that fateful morning when Jason had told her that Sonny was dead. The police, after having found the Cuban's body, deemed his death an accidental overdose, leaving the don of Port Charles and those who worked for him in the clear. No arrest warrants were issued, no suspects dragged down to the PCPD for questioning, and Sonny's body had been released for the next of kin to ready and prepare for burial. And, now, here she was, dressed all in black and trying to shrink away from the rest of the world, mourning the loss of yet another person in her short life.

Burying Sonny would be nowhere near as traumatic as burying Lucky had been, but, still, the loss stung. She had insisted that she needed to attend her friend's service as both a sign of respect for the older man and as a means for her to grieve the passing of someone who was important to her. Jason had argued that it was too dangerous and that it was foolish for her to be anything but thankful that Sonny was now dead. He didn't understand how she still didn't believe him when he maintained that it was Sonny who had tried to kill him, that it was Sonny who had threatened her little boy, and how it had been Sonny who had cruelly murdered another small child in order to make a point.

The blonde had ranted and raved that their friendship was based upon just a handful of one sided, coincidental run-ins, and he beseeched her to see how contrived each and every meeting had been since the beginning of Sonny's return to town. But, in return, she had thrown back in Jason's face the fact that Sonny had once been there for her years before, that he had been the one to hold her as she watched Lucky burn to death in a garage Jason himself owned and that he had been more than a friend to Lucky as her childhood sweetheart was growing up, almost like an uncle.

It had been then that the kingpin had shut down emotionally, walking out on her physically, and it was then that Elizabeth had taken his behavior for a concession of defeat, pushing away from the kitchen table to retreat to her bedroom to ready and prepare in private. An hour later, she had emerged from the small space, dressed and primped for the funeral, but, still, Jason had been nowhere in sight. The guards informed her that Mr. Morgan would not be returning until she left but that Cameron was to remain and he would watch out for her son until she returned. They, both men, were to travel with her to the church, but, respectfully, they would wait outside the closed, private proceedings. Despite feeling as through their presence anywhere near the service was an insult, she relented without even a word, too tired and too sad to even attempt another fight.

And, now, here she sat, heartbreakingly alone, always alone, as the church around her filled to near capacity. Most in attendance came to gawk, came to make sure that the headlines were correct and that Sonny Corinthos was actually dead, and the realization that her friend's funeral was nothing more than a spectacle made Elizabeth's skin crawl. In a non-descript middle pew, not too close to the front of the church to seem pretentious and self-important but not too far back that it appeared as though she was just skirting on the edges in the hopes of not being noticed, she mourned quietly, her pale face devoid of tears just how Sonny, she believed, would have wanted.

He was a private man, a man who lived and loved behind closed doors and presented a stoic, personable front to the public. That was the image she was trying to project, for her friend, that afternoon. Later, when she was in the comfort of her room at the safe house, she would cry, cry for the unnecessary loss of life and for a friend she had barely gotten the chance to truly know, and she would cry for all the misunderstandings that had prevented Sonny and Jason from mending their irreparable bridges, keeping their bonds of companionship severed to the point of opposition.

Startling her out of her thoughts, Elizabeth felt someone slide into the pew next to her, sitting just a little too intimately, a little too close in her opinion, and, when the stranger spoke, their voice was elevated, animated, obviously uninterested in following the rules of polite society. "Well, this is turning out to be quite the party for our Michael, now, isn't it?"

Taken aback, she could only stumble upon her words. "Excuse me?"

But the woman simply ignored her. "Look at all these people. Very few of them actually knew Sonny, and, of those who did, very few of them knew who he really was. Some of them knew the public persona he projected, some of them knew the man behind the mask that he allowed them to see, but I was the only one who really knew what he was like – all of him, the good, the bad, and the deliciously wicked."

The stranger was obviously there to cause mass shock. While her face could not be seen underneath the layers upon layers of tulle she wore as a veil, its mass hanging from a decadent, ostentatious hat, the rest of the woman's ensemble was barely there. Black leather comprised the entire outfit, from the tips of the mourner's stiletto, thigh high boots to the very strings that held her bustier together, her outfit was tasteless, tawdry, and completely inappropriate, but, at the same time, the woman gave off an unquestionable air of assurance and pride. She didn't feel as though she was dressed in the wrong, and her brazen attitude made the single mother wonder if she appeared in such a way every day, if the stranger's ensemble was merely just a part of the image she projected… for work.

Gulping nervously, she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. While Elizabeth refused to make a scene, she also didn't want to be around the poisonous woman any longer than she had to be. She wasn't a prude, but, at the same time, she didn't relish holding private, personal conversations with a woman who appeared to be, quite literally, a common whore, and it bothered her that Sonny had associated himself with someone of such low class.

While she didn't live under any illusions when it came to a man's sexual appetite, she had believed her friend to be of higher taste than, evidently, he was, and it rankled Elizabeth somewhat to realize that Sonny had spent enough time with the woman next to her in order for the stranger to believe that she knew Sonny better than anyone else. It wasn't jealousy, for she never looked towards the Cuban as anything more than a friend or, maybe, a fatherly figure; it just made her feel as though her own relationship with the older man was somehow now tainted, almost as if her reputation was guilty merely by association.

Luckily, the service was about to start, for everyone in attendance could clearly see the priest making his way towards the pulpit, and Elizabeth was thankful that she wouldn't be forced to make small talk with the woman sitting next to her. Once the funeral was over, she could skip out, avoiding the cemetery and the burial by insisting that she needed to return to her son, and never again would her paths cross with Sonny's less than appropriate mistress. The reassuring thoughts made her sigh in relief.

"While you might not know who I am, Princess," the stranger beside her suddenly lowered her voice, whispering, hissing quietly. "I'm well aware of who you are and what you meant to Sonny, and I won't be forgetting anytime soon either. Now, if you'll excuse me," the woman offered as she stood, readying herself to leave. "Sermons always did give me hives."

Causing a scene, the stranger sauntered out of the church, her hips ticking back and forth as she slowly, purposely made her way out of the cathedral. Her movements were designed for impact, as if she knew that every single pair of eyes in that church were riveted upon her sashaying form, and they were… all except one. As soon as she was gone, Elizabeth turned around and ignored the interruption, intent upon focusing, instead, upon her reason for being there in the first place: mourning her friend.

The inappropriate woman was the last thing on her mind, and, by the time the service ended, she never paid the stranger even a single further moment of thought. Instead, she left, climbing into the car and going back to the safehouse without even once voicing the strange occurring to either of the guards who had accompanied her. After all, she had already known that her older friend had been in the possession of a few flaws. So what if she had just discovered another one of them. He was dead. It was too late to worry about such things now. Instead, his faults would go to his grave with him, already forgiven and certainly, at least by her, forgotten.


	15. Chapter 15

**Safe… No More**

**Chapter Fifteen  
FNF#24: Take the leap; build wings on the way down.**

Despite knowing it was wrong, she had spent the day away from the safe house, avoiding everyone and everything that went with it, including her own son. She felt slightly guilty for the fact, but the more prevalent part of Elizabeth was just grateful for her time away from Jason. It didn't matter where she went or what she did, he constantly seemed to be with her in some way. Even if he wasn't physically present, his guards always were, and she knew they watched her for their boss. How much they told him and how much they decided it was safe to keep to themselves, she didn't know, but she felt as though she was under a microscope, constantly being studied and judged by the mob boss. The worst part was that she knew Jason found her lacking, and the knowledge that his disapproval, for some reason, bothered her further cemented her desire to be as far away from the kingpin as possible.

Unfortunately, that meant that she sometimes wished to avoid her son as well. It wasn't Cameron's fault, but her little boy liked the crime lord. Evidently desperate for some kind of male attention, he doted upon Jason. Their past rift caused when she and the blonde had fought so bitterly in front of the toddler was long forgotten, and it didn't hurt matters either that Jason spent all day everyday with her child while she was forced to go to work. Even when the underground boss had not been a presence in their life, she still did not have the luxury of spending as much time with her own little boy as Jason did, and the fact that he could made her resent him even more.

It was a vicious cycle that they were in, and she knew the pattern didn't preclude her unwanted roommate. His anger and frustration, his absolute loathing towards her was quite apparent, and, just as he, seemingly, didn't understand why she disliked him so much, Elizabeth was confused as to what she had done to permanently render herself on Jason's bad side. True, she had been taking advantage of him and his wealth for years, trespassing on his properties and squatting in his safe houses, but it wasn't as though that undisclosed favor had somehow taxed his unlimited amount of wealth. Far from it. In fact, the mob boss probably would never have even learned of her treachery if he hadn't of just happened to stumble upon the very home she was using that first night when their regrettable association had begun.

So, now, when she was finally granted a little freedom from the crime lord, she had taken full advantage of it, using Sonny's funeral and her grief as a reason to remain as far away from the man for as long as possible. After she had left the Cuban's service, she had insisted upon a walk in the park, endlessly circling the still dormant grounds despite the cold and the haunting memories she now had of the seemingly benign commons area. Although diligent, the guards had been respectfully discreet, allowing her the privacy of her thoughts and, at least, the semblance that she was alone. They hung back, kept their distance, and she had been appreciative of their restraint, attributing it to the fact that they probably thought she was still upset about the idea of burying her friend… even if they themselves didn't hold Sonny in such high esteem.

However, that had not been the case. Rather, the single mother's mind had drifted away from the loss of the ex-kingpin and further towards why Jason was so adamant that he was practically evil incarnated. No matter what she said or did, the blonde refused to listen to her. She already knew that he was keeping something from her, something apparently quite big and important, but she also wondered if there was something more, something that ran deeper that made Jason doubt both her opinion and Sonny's sincerity so much. Although she wasn't ready to perhaps admit that the younger man had a reason to mistrust his former mentor and knew she probably never would be able to trust Jason that much, she could concede that something made the mob boss so confident of his convictions, and she would be lying to herself if she said she wasn't curious as to what that certainty was due to.

After hours of wrestling with her thoughts, the cold, natural elements of an early March in upstate New York the last thing on her unconsciously shivering mind, she had given up, finally heeded her guards' advice, and returned to the safe house. No closer to answering her own questions, Elizabeth could, at least, admit that she was tired and that she needed to get some rest before she was expected at work again early the next morning, and, although she was slightly irritated with herself at her inability to leave her enforced roommate out of her thoughts even for just one day as she mourned the loss of a friend, she was accepting of the fact that, as long as Jason Morgan was a constant presence in her life, he would also be an unwanted one in her mind as well. Now, that didn't mean that she was ready to confront him about his behavior, about his less than favorable estimation of her character, and about his absolute suspect towards Sonny, but that did mean she was resigned, at least for the time being, of never completely escaping from his presence. Only he could free her of that forever, and that would only happen when he finally permitted them both to go their separate ways.

Allowing herself into the safe house, the young waitress sighed in quiet defeat and submission. While she didn't want to be in the shared home, it was where she needed to be both for herself and, more importantly, for her son, and there was a little part of her that could admit she was somewhat relieved to be back. During the car ride in from town, she had become aware of just how freezing her petite body was, and the luring thoughts of her warm, comfortable bed were enough to override the unpleasant realization that Jason would be there, bright and early in the morning, to, no doubt, once again, confront her reproachfully about something. For now, though, it was late, and, knowing of the kingpin's sleeping habits, Elizabeth had no doubt that he was already ensconced away in his own bedroom for the night. She was grateful for his almost possessed control over every aspect of his life.

"So you didn't forget where you lived?"

Startled by the whispered words, their harsh yet soft tone barely escaping past a clenched and powerful jaw held stiffly in ever present anger, the brunette mother nearly tripped, losing the pace of her steps as she rapidly attempted to catch her suddenly misplaced breath. He wasn't asleep; he was awake. He wasn't in his room, sealed away and hidden from her presence; he was right there, mere feet away from her own petrified form, sitting, watching, laying in wait for her to arrive. He was a caged spider, hungry and territorial, lethal and, at the same time, somehow restrained; she was his unwitting prey, ignorantly unprepared for his treacherous, designed attack, but she wasn't going to allow him to rattle her composure any further.

"What are you…?" Changing tactics, the single mother further approached the still crime lord, taking a seat across from him in front of the slowly dying embers of a once roaring fire. "I didn't see you there."

"Obviously."

Caught off guard, once more, but his even more guarded, hollow tone, she bit her lip in bewilderment, her hands involuntarily twisting together in anxious movement, for she had no idea how to approach the man adjacent to her. So, instead of saying anything in retaliation, she remained silent, waiting for Jason to shed some light upon what exactly she had done wrong in his eyes this time. It didn't take but a charged moment.

"Where were you so long?"

Unable to hold her tongue, Elizabeth snapped, "why don't you ask your spies. After all, they're paid to report back to you about everything I do or say."

Without blinking, the mob boss responded, "do you see anyone else here with us right now? I asked you, and I expect you to give me an answer." Before she could snidely retort, he pressed on, "an honest, detailed answer."

There was an extra, foreign note to the blonde's voice that late evening, something the single waitress was practically positive that she had never heard in the depths of his words before, but, despite her awareness of the difference, she couldn't quite put a finger on what the edge meant or implied. It wasn't impatience, or rage, or disappointment. From Jason, she was used to those shades of emotion and could easily recognize them. And it wasn't hurt or sadness, for, even though she had never heard those before from the powerful underground criminal, she knew she would be able to recognize them as well. Rather, it was something else, something just as potent, just as passionate but, still, something alien and, for the dangerous crime lord, exotic.

Summoning her courage and all the bravado she could rally, Elizabeth gazed directly into the blonde's eyes, meeting him spark for spark, glint of fury for glint of fury. "I was at Sonny's funeral."

Bellowing as he frantically, manically raised himself from his chair, the mob boss ranted, "I don't want to hear about Sonny, and I don't want you to lie to me either. I know you couldn't have been at his funeral all this time. The funeral was over hours ago, Elizabeth. So, once more," he instructed, warned, threatened, "where the hell were you?"

If she didn't know better, she would have thought she had seen him sway slightly when he rose to his feet, but the twenty-two year old quickly dismissed such thoughts, assuming the lack of coordination on her opponent's behalf was simply bred from the excess waves of energy his wrath was producing. Remaining seated, she calmly, decisively replied, "staying as far away from you for as long as I possibly could," infusing as much venom and abhorrence in her voice as she possibly could as the lowly murmured words floated away from her controlled form and towards the raging crime lord's.

As her statement hit its mark, she watched as Jason crumpled before her, and, suddenly, she identified the sentiment that had been eluding her since she had first become aware of the blonde's presence. It was jealousy. But, surely, she was mistaken. Why would Jason be jealous… about or towards her, and who or what was he jealous of? Scrambling frantically to put the pieces together, the only logical explanation she could come up with was that he was jealous of Sonny. But the older man was dead, and, more importantly, he was dead on the kingpin's orders. Jason couldn't possibly be jealous of her relationship with Sonny, her trust in the older man, her unwavering belief in him… could he?

"I remember you from before," her contrived roommate confessed, leaning against and slouching down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, his legs braced and bent upwards, his head and hands falling between his knees. "You were so beautiful, so full of life and potential, so… everything."

His nostalgic voice trailed off, and Elizabeth knew what the words he had left unspoken meant. While she might have been beautiful and full of potential _before_, she certainly wasn't now. She was a disappointment, a failure, and she hated the fact that he felt the need to point this out to her once again, that he always seemed to insist upon putting her down and reminding her of exactly what she had lost in years since Lucky's death, what she had sacrificed and given up, what she had tossed away. She also realized, from the words left unspoken between them, that the mob boss was fall over, pass out drunk.

Standing up, she moved towards him, and, without saying anything, reached for his hands, helping the towering, massive man stumblingly rise to his feet. He had to use both her form and the wall to aid himself in the simple action, and, unfavorably, she was forced to wrap one of her arms around him as she helped him wobble towards his bedroom. Their journey towards the back of the house took much longer than it usually would either of them separately or together, and, as he fell gracelessly into bed, Elizabeth was startled when the crime lord pulled her down with him so that she landed harshly, draped over his long, muscled frame.

"Jason…," she started to complain, irritated with his intoxicated behavior as she struggled and attempted to push herself away from his drunken, no doubt mistaken embrace, but his iron hold upon her body wouldn't budge, and, instead of moving away from him, she found herself being pulled further towards him.

His mouth met hers roughly, sloppily, demandingly, and, for just a moment, the single mother found herself falling into the kiss and actually enjoying it. It had been so long since anyone had touched her that way, and she realized then and there that her body was desperate for the comfort, for the pleasure. But not from him, not from someone who despised her and who she despised equally in return.

Gathering all the physical strength she had, the brunette roughly pushed the mobster away as she rolled, kicked, and twisted out of his embrace, falling breathlessly onto the bed beside him as she finally emerged free from his arms. Neither of them said anything for several seconds. While she regained control, she wasn't sure if Jason had been stunned into stillness because of her refusal or shocked into quiet because of his own unforeseen and, certainly, unappreciated advances.

Unbidden, the tears came swiftly to her eyes, burning the sapphire depths, and Elizabeth didn't once try to check their retreat down her flushed and ruddy cheeks. Instead, she sat up, wiping carelessly at their moist trails as she crawled away from the reclined kingpin. It wasn't until she was standing once more that she realized Jason's stillness, his silence wasn't due to embarrassment or regret; he was simply asleep, and, without making a sound, she slipped out of his room and down towards her own, her broken, desperate sobs doing absolutely nothing to stir the passed out blonde she gratefully left behind.


	16. Chapter 16

**Safe… No More**

**Chapter Sixteen  
FNF#25: "Right Here Waiting" by Richard Marx**

"I'm… uh, I'm sorry."

Coming to a complete, obviously stunned stop in the kitchen doorway, Elizabeth Webber just stared at the man before her. The last thing she had been expecting was a forced confrontation between the two of them that morning. While she had been exhausted after crying herself to sleep, Jason had been drunk – fall down, pass out, absolutely sloshed drunk, but, yet, here he was, perfectly poised and put together, up and ready before she even crawled out of bed for her first, bitter cup of necessary coffee.

He was showered, shaved, and dressed, his former injury heeded uniform of shorts and sweats replaced with jeans and a t-shirt. His feet were bare of the boots he usually wore, and he stood there, shoulders straight and rolled back but with his head slightly bowed in apology, in just his socks, looking almost domesticated, almost normal. Cameron was beside him, happily forking his way through a massive plate topped with scrambled eggs, wheat toast, and a bowl of fresh fruit, the sheer perfection of the meal making her feel even more inferior towards the mob boss, because, compared to him, she was the one who looked hung over; she was the one who, once again, slouched on her responsibilities towards her little boy while he stepped up to the plate and handled them for her.

However, it wasn't his appearance that really caused the surge of so many unexpected emotions inside the petite brunette; rather, it was the fact that he had said he was sorry that bothered her so much. Those four seemingly inoffensive words, really just three and a nervous filler, made her tense in resentment, cringe in mortification, and ruffle with irritation, but, most shocking of all, his admission of contrition also made her waver with hurt. While she had avoided his advances from the night before, while she had resented the fact that he had kissed her in the first place despite her body's initial reaction, it hurt that he was so appalled by the thought of touching her, by wanting her, that he felt the need to apologize for his actions.

"There's extra breakfast," Jason continued, gesturing without looking towards the stove where a plate already prepared was waiting for her. He must have heard her stirring in her bedroom and had fixed the food so that it would be ready and waiting by the time she arrived in the kitchen to join him and her three year old son. Never once breaking eye contact with her, as if the constant visual communication could further express his sympathy and compunction towards his previous actions, the crime lord continued. "Cameron said you really liked strawberries, so I sent Max out for some this morning."

The gesture was thoughtful, could even be considered sweet… if it was coming from anyone else but the man standing across from her, but, instead of thanking him for thinking of her and her preferences, she challengingly charged, "but they're not in season."

"Yeah, I know," the blonde confessed, suddenly appearing almost sheepish, his head ducking further towards his chest, and he finally broke their gaze. "But I was…." Swallowing roughly, he paused, the few silent moments rolling uncomfortably between them before he finally repeated himself from before. "Like I said, I'm sorry."

She knew it was childish, but, just like always, Elizabeth couldn't ignore the emotions that the kingpin inspired within her. Crossing the bright and clean tiles of the kitchen floor, her bare feet quickly whispering over their cool surface, though she didn't feel the chilling contact due to her exasperation, the single mother, without hesitation, reached for the prepared plate of food, dumping all its contents and the bowl her fresh cut, slightly sugared strawberries were resting in completely in the trash. With a resounding clank, she dropped the empty plate in the sink before turning around to, once more, face her baffled roommate, further cementing her daring behavior by leveling her fisted hands upon her pajama clad hips.

"What did you do that for," the crime lord wanted to know, surprisingly keeping his tone level and serene. Secretly, she found herself wondering if it was a side effect of his drinking from the night before. Perhaps he really was hung over – like he deserved to be – and any loud noises, including his own raised voice, would have sent a brass band rumbling through to terrorize his already pounding skull.

With that thought in mind, she made sure her own voice was elevated, not too much to appear blatant but just enough so that it would, undoubtedly, cause the man beside her pain if he were, in fact, feeling the after effects of his imprudent, alcoholic binge. "I'm not hungry."

"Alright," Jason agreed. Without argument, without protestation that she needed to eat in order to keep her strength up for the day ahead, he simply conceded, moving slowly yet purposely towards the coffee pot to pour a mug of the strong, aromatic brew. Just as she thought he was going to raise the steaming cup to his own lips, he, instead, passed it along to her, pressing the warm ceramic into her slightly unwilling two hands and folding her fingers around the glass to ensure that she didn't drop it. And despite the fact that she really did want to take a drink, Elizabeth decided to pour the black concoction down the drain, dropping the cup, just like she had with her plate, deafeningly into the sink.

Still, the mob boss refused to respond to her baiting. Rather, he hopefully, almost urgently stated, "I hope you accept my apology."

Finally, she exploded. In a whirlwind of activity, the young waitress tossed her hands up in aggravation, giving voice the raging thoughts that had been whirling through her since the blonde very first uttered his words of repentance. "Why are you being so insistent?" Changing tactics, she accused, "and why does the idea of kissing me repel you so much that you insist upon… all this." To reinforce her point, she swept her rigid appendages around the kitchen, insinuating not only his apology had insulted her but also his cooking and his almost kind behavior as well. Leveling a condemning finger in his direction, Elizabeth yelled, "you don't get to say that you're sorry for that, at least, not for that reason."

A stillness descended upon them; not even the sound of her toddler's chewing filled the room any longer. Casting a quick, furtive glance in the three year old's direction, she noticed that his fork was held halfway to his mouth, his lips agape in shock, his eyes wide with engrossed attention as he watched the adults confront each other before him. Cameron was absolutely absorbed. And Jason… finally, truly looking at him, Elizabeth realized that he was just as dazed, just as astonished as her little boy was… but for a completely different reason.

"We… I kissed you?"

He didn't know; he didn't remember.

Answering him, she sniped, "yes, and, though I regret it as much as you probably do… if not more, I don't want you to apologize because you did it; I just want you to apologize for why…"

"No."

His interruption, his refusal caught her off guard.

"What," the single mother asked, astonished, otherwise speechless by the kingpin's behavior.

Clarifying, Jason replied, "I won't apologize for kissing you."

She wanted to ask him why not, she wanted to demand answers to question she couldn't have voiced even if she knew what she wanted to ask, but the words would not come, and her body remained still, as if frozen, as her eyes rapidly scanned and studied the blonde beside her.

"Obviously, I wasn't aware of my actions if I can't remember them, and, even if I had been, I don't do regrets, Elizabeth. I don't second guess my actions, I don't worry about the reasons behind what I do, and I certainly don't take things back. What's done is done. Nothing can be changed. There's no point to the what ifs and having doubts, so I just leave them in the past."

The brunette waitress was entirely confused. She had no idea if the mobster was admitting that he wanted to kiss her or if he was just saying that their kiss didn't matter. For someone who proclaimed to be so straight forward, he was sure as hell leaving her in a dark and insurmountable maze of misunderstanding. But she couldn't focus on Jason's feeling towards their kiss then and there; that was something she would need to contemplate later when she was alone and free to do such a thing without an unwelcome audience. Rather, in that moment, what she wanted was an answer to another question.

"Well, then, if this wasn't about the kiss," the twenty-two year old demanded to know. "Why did you apologize?"

"It doesn't matter."

"The hell it doesn't," she refuted, her voice, once again, rising out of confrontation and antagonism.

At last, the crime lord's previously unparalleled controlled snapped. "I don't explain myself to anyone, least of all you."

"You will if I want you to," Elizabeth insisted. "If this was something that didn't concern me, then fine, be your stubborn, prideful self and refuse to cooperate. But this does concern me. You said you were sorry to me, you obviously felt as though you had wronged me in some way, so much so that you went so far as to make me breakfast and you sent Max on what had to be a wild goose chase to find me strawberries, just because Cam told you I liked them, and, now, you're going to tell me why."

"Why do you care so much?"

"And why are you being so difficult," she leveled in return.

"The subject is closed," the mob boss decreed, pinching the bridge of his nose as if the observable sign of frustration would be enough to make her back down, to back off. "Just drop it."

"No, I will not," the single mother stood her ground, refusing to listen to her contrived roommate's orders. "And you know that I will just harass you, night and day, until you finally give me an answer, Jason, so man up, quit being such a baby, and just tell me now why you were apologizing ten minutes ago."

"Fine," he screamed, the veins in his neck and forehead protruding so far she found herself wondering if they would explode.

Returning his immature outburst, she matched his volume and bellowed back, "fine," with just as much ire and irritation laced in that one word as he had expressed before.

Reclaiming some of his temper, Jason exhaled harshly, glancing away and refusing to look at her as he answered, "I was apologizing because I got drunk."

Before she could respond, before she could even laugh at his absurd behavior, the kingpin pressed on, changing the topic so rapidly it left Elizabeth feeling slightly whiplashed. "And I've been thinking that you should go back to school. You're a mother," he pointed out innocuously. Obviously, she already knew that fact. "You can't spend the rest of your life working as a waitress; you'll never make it, and, if I ever want to be free of you, because there's no way I'll be able to let you go off without wondering if Cameron is alright without me providing the two of you with a roof over your heads, then I need to know that you can support your kid on your own without my help and without the government assistance that your family… and mine… blocked.

"I already made the appointment for you, so you'll be meeting with the dean of admissions at PCU this afternoon after your shift. You'll discuss your options, whether or not you will be able to enroll full time or if you'll just have to settle for part time for now, and you'll pick a tentative major. I'll handle the expenses. We'll work out how you'll pay me back later, because, right now, your guards are waiting, so go get dressed.

"Oh, and you'll also have to take Cameron with you. With Sonny dead and now buried, there's no reason for me to stay in hiding. I have a busy day planned, meeting, inspections, and other things that you can't know about, so I'm not sure when I'll be back tonight, and, of course, Cameron can't go with me. I've already called his daycare center, so they'll be expecting him this morning, and I already cleared a guard, so Ritchie will be accompanying him from now on. Ritchie's young, so I think Cameron will like him, but he's been working for me long enough that he knows the rules and proper procedures. Plus, he's good. Also, Will, for the foreseeable future, will continue to be your guard."

With that, he turned on his heel and disappeared from the kitchen, the door slamming behind him as he left the safe house and her flabbergasted, disorientated, static form and her son's equally as astounded one behind. Twenty minutes later, they were both dressed and bundled up, sitting in the back of the black, bullet proof Town Car that daily took her to and from work. Although the surprise had started to wane only to be replaced with a bubbling, burning fury, the fact remained that she had to be at The PC Grille at eight o'clock sharp, and Edward Quartermaine would not tolerate tardiness… even if she had already put in her two weeks' notice, per Jason's orders.

The guards, both her own and now Cameron's, sat up front, one of them driving, and they seemed to sense the wrath flowing off of her petite frame. But her son didn't. He was boisterous, happy, giggling and wiggling in the tight, restrictive confines of his car seat. Breaking the silence that had descended upon the tense vehicle, he cheerily yelled out, "Jason kissed mommy."

There was no embarrassment, because, simultaneously, before she could react, both Will and Ritchie let out a sigh of relief and murmured to themselves, "it's about damn time," loud enough for her to still perceive their words but quiet enough that they could feign ignorance.

Now, what the hell did _that _response mean?


	17. Chapter 17

**Safe… No More**

**Chapter Seventeen  
FNF#26: When you love someone, all your saved-up wishes start coming out. ~ **_**by Elizabeth Bowen**_

She felt steamrolled. That was really the one way to describe it.

After Jason's orders that morning that she attend a meeting with the dean of admissions at PCU had been issued, her hand had felt forced, but, still, he had made it sound as though she was going to have some options, that he had not gone right ahead and made all her decisions for her.

She had been naïve to think such a thing.

After all, this was _Jason _she was thinking about here, and he never allowed her to make up her own mind. When he had found her squatting in one of his safe houses, he had left her no choice but to agree to his so-called compromise of her serving as his temporary nurse. Too bad their arrangement seemed anything but transitory at that current point in time. Then he had made demands about Cameron, about her running errands for him, about having guards following her around. When Sonny returned to town and remade her acquaintance, his control issues had just gotten worse, progressing to the point where he deemed it necessary for her to quit her job. Luckily, his rashly stated pronouncement that she and her son wouldn't go anywhere without him as their constant and unwavering shadow appeared to be forgotten now that he was back in power for the whole world to see, but, still, the man was insufferable.

And, now, he had gone so far as to map out her entire foreseeable future. Through so-called generous hints and what the dean had referred to as 'a refreshing interest in a young talent's career,' the mob boss had practically pre-designed all four years of her college experience. To help her ease back into her studies, he had suggested that she start with summer courses, taking a few preliminary classes before enrolling full time in the fall. Informing the dean of her interest in art, he had sent the older woman to the old boxcar, insisting that she see the remains of a young Elizabeth's whimsical efforts to make an abandoned railroad car feel more like a home. And he had even gone so far as to take care of any financial arrangements for her and had helpfully recommended that she combine her talents for painting with a more practical major, insisting upon her studying to become an art teacher.

It wasn't so much the decisions he had made _for her _that irritated the young mother; it was the fact that he had found it necessary to do such a thing in the first place and then that he had tricked her into believing that she just might have a say in her own life that infuriated her. But, again, she should have known better. The scary thing was that everything the crime lord had picked for her made sense. Somehow, he had managed to see past all their differences, all their petty arguments, and figure out what would make her happy. Not only did she love children and art, but, by becoming a teacher, her schedule would be perfectly matched to her little boy's once he started school. She'd work the same hours that he was in class, and they'd both have the summers off to spend and enjoy together. Realizing, though, that Jason knew her so well, the twenty-two year old was left with a bitter taste in her mouth; it made her feel uncomfortable.

Walking slowly down the admissions building's long hallway, her body jittery with excess energy, excitement, and apprehension while her mind seemed to drag her back, seemed to keep her grounded and her feet lethargic, she mentally reminded herself not to forget about the placement tests she had scheduled for the next week. That would be just her luck, after all. After years in which such a dream – actually attending college – seemed impossible, Elizabeth could just picture herself forgetting to actually show up… not that Jason would allow such a thing to happen. It wouldn't matter if Cameron got sick, or if she was forced to work overtime at The Grill, or if nuclear war struck the world, the blonde criminal would make sure, no matter what, that she kept her appointment. The realization made her smirk, but the gesture lacked any tenderness or amusement.

Eventually, her ambling led her outside. There, her guard was waiting at the door, and he unhurriedly strolled beside her as they made their way towards the car parked on the curb. It was already running, probably to keep the occupants inside warm during the chilly evening hours, and, for the first time in what felt like forever, the single mother sensed a genuine smile light up her face at the prospect of seeing her little boy.

Because of everything that had been going on, she had seen less of Cameron than what she wanted to, and, knowing that Jason would be waiting for them when they got back to the safe house, probably planning on monopolizing her three year's attention yet again, she had every intention of making the most out of their car ride home that evening. Her toddler could tell her about his first day back at daycare, and she would explain the idea of her going to college in a way that her son could understand. If she was fortunate, her enforced roommate would still be away, taking care of the all important business he had mentioned that morning, when they returned, and she and Cam would be able to have dinner together – alone, and she would be able to give him his bath, read him a few stories, and then tuck him into bed.

"Hey, sweetheart," she greeted her little boy when she slid into the comfortable back seat of the luxury sedan.

But no equally as eager hello was returned to her from her toddler. Instead, she found Cameron sound asleep in his car seat, snoring ever so softly.

"Sorry, Miss Webber," her son's guard apologized, somewhat inelegantly. Despite the fact that she could tell Ritchie was a nice, young man, probably no older than she herself was, he seemed uneasy. In fact, almost all the guards seemed uncomfortable around her, at least all of the ones she had met thus far, including her own, and she found herself wondering if women were that scarce in Jason's organization. Surely, though, the men were, at times, assigned to watch over his girlfriends. After all, Jason was a man, and she had no doubts that he had needs and urges like every other member of the male race. The only explanation she could come up with was that his girlfriends were guarded by the more senior employees and that she and her son, instead, were given the lower level security experts.

Why that bothered her, Elizabeth really wasn't comfortable even considering. While she could easy, simply dismiss it as exasperation with the kingpin, resenting the fact that he didn't feel her safety and, more importantly, her little boy's was important enough to provide them with the best, most talented of his men, she knew that wasn't the real reason behind her annoyance. Although related, she could admit that it infuriated her that his floozies, that the, no doubt, sluts that he randomly picked up at bars were more worthy of protection in Jason's eyes than she was, the woman who was forced into his world when he made her tend to his injuries, than her toddler. However, what she couldn't contemplate was the reason behind her animosity. That was just too dangerous of an enigma.

Finally realizing that she still had not yet responded to Ritchie's apology, the young brunette shook off her thoughts, smiled tightly, the gesture doing nothing to relax her face or offer the guard any reassurance, and met his gaze in rearview mirror. "It's not your fault."

The security expert protested, "yeah, but…"

"No buts," Elizabeth contradicted. "Cam's unused to the rigors of daycare, because he's been spending all his time with your boss. Of course, he's exhausted. I'll be lucky if he even wakes up long enough to eat some dinner this evening. He'll probably just go straight to bed once we get back to the safe house."

Laughing stiffly, she continued on, apparently in need of a way to fill the otherwise silent car. The fact that she was rambling, the fact that she felt the need to explain her three year old's actions to his new bodyguard told the twenty-two year old that there were other things on her mind that she really wanted to give vent to, but she held those back, instead substituting her complaints with tedious, mechanical conversation.

"The real challenge will be carrying him inside. While he might seem little, and he is, when he's asleep, I swear, it feels like his weight just doubles."

Awkwardly, after clearing his throat, Will offered a simple explanation to her, his cheeks coloring, for some reason, in embarrassment, and he refused to look away from the passenger side window as he spoke. "Dead weight," he practically coughed out.

No one spoke, afterwards, for several moments, and, then, finally, Elizabeth realized why. While she had been talking about carrying someone who was asleep, Will had been referencing the real deal, comparing her slumbering son to the weight of a dead body. For some inexplicable reason, the uncouth conversation made her want to giggle.

But she didn't. Instead, she remained quiet, sitting primly in the backseat. Time passed, the miles stretched by, but she could tell that the guards were just as ill at ease as she was. They seemed to glance surreptitiously at each other out of the corners of their eyes, urging the other to be the first one to bridge the silence, but neither seemed willing to break the cumbersome tension.

Finally, it was Will, once again, who spoke up. "So, Miss Webber, how was your meeting with the dean?"

And, just like that, she couldn't contain her frustration any longer. All the pent up aggravation started spilling out of her, despite the fact that Elizabeth knew the two bodyguards were not the appropriate audience for her grievances. They had just asked about her meeting in an effort to be polite, and the fact that she was annoyed with and ranting about their employer had to make the situation extremely uncomfortable for them, but she just couldn't restrain herself any longer.

"Ugh," the petite brunette groaned out loud, running her hands distractedly through her hair as she slumped back forcefully against the seat of the car, slouching. "I just don't understand him."

"Who," Ritchie asked, sounding almost desperate to be right, "the dean?"

"No," the young mother contradicted him, too wrapped up in her venting to heed the cautionary tone of the security expert. "_She _was nice, compassionate, helpful. I'm talking about Jason."

When neither of the two men said anything, she just pressed on, forging ahead. "You know, I've known him for years." At the surprised expressions upon the guards' faces, she knew she had their attention. "Because my family was good friends with the Quartermaines, Jason's always sort of been in my life. I never actually met him, because, by the time I was born, he had already been shipped off to boarding school, but I remember hearing about him. The name 'Golden Boy' is completely accurate. Everybody, at least, all the Quartermaine adults, adored him. Jason could do no wrong in their eyes.

"When he returned home after graduating from high school and started making plans to attend college to become a doctor, his parents were so proud, and, even though his grandfather complained about him not wanting to study business, he secretly was, too. But then the accident happened, and Jason Quartermaine became Jason Morgan, and everything changed."

Wistfully, she recalled, "you know, I was really excited when he came back to town. I was thirteen, just a child really, but, all my life, I had heard of the great Jason Quartermaine. I think I had a crush on him after just listening to all the stories. I wanted to see with my own two eyes why my parents, and my grandparents, and his entire family seemed to think that he was the next best thing to sliced bread. I never got that chance, though.

"Before I could meet him, his head was rammed into a tree." Sighing, Elizabeth remained quiet for several beats before continuing on with her story. "They tried to steamroll him, you know, tell him what to do, when to do it, and what to feel about the fact that they were basically dictating every aspect of his life, and Jason hated it… at least, that's how it seemed to me. And he rebelled, as anyone would under that kind of pressure. While it crushed the rest of his family and nearly destroyed his parents, I never blamed Jason for what he did. Did he handle the situation in the best way? No, not really," the brunette answered her own question. "But they – his family – didn't either."

The compassionate, perceptive tone of her voice disappeared only to be replaced by the ever present dissatisfaction and impatience that seemed to separate and constantly trip up the single mother and the crime lord. "So that's why I don't understand why he's acting this way," she complained, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "Just like the Quartermaines did to him after his accident, he's steamrolling me now. It's not that I don't want to go to college or that I don't appreciate the fact that he wants my son to have a better life, but does he have to be so damn bossy about it? Let me make my own decisions. I'm not a child; I am capable of an intelligent thought every once in a while."

"We know that, Miss Webber," Will assured her. "And Jason does, too. The thing is…" His words trailed off as though he wasn't sure just how much it was appropriate for him to say or admit.

Taking over, Ritchie picked up where his coworker left off. "There's a lot about Mr. Morgan that you don't know," the security expert stated delicately. "He's not as simple of a man as you seem to think he is, and the fact that you're not aware of this is probably both your fault and his. Jason doesn't open up to people that easily, but he has good reason to be so defensive."

"Just talk to him," her own guard suggested. "Explain to him calmly why you feel the way you do, and give him the chance to explain to you why he behaves the way he does."

Indignantly, she argued, "we talk. We talk all the time, but it never gets us anywhere."

"No," Ritchie countered, smirking in her direction through the rearview mirror. "The two of you argue, you bicker, you scream at each other, but you don't talk. There's a difference, Miss Webber, and, if you realize that and try to avoid fighting with Jason, I think you'll be pleasantly surprised with the results. But it's up to you," he stated, shrugging his shoulders. "I guess it just comes down to what you want more: do you want to be right, or do you want to find a way to compromise?"

All she did in response was warily bite her lip. So much for a nice, quiet evening at home with Cameron…


	18. Chapter 18

**Safe… No More**

**Chapter Eighteen  
FNF#27: There is love, of course, and then there's life, its enemy. **_**~ Jean Anouilh**_

Jason Morgan didn't tinker.

At least, he never tinkered before. But, now, apparently, he did. Now, that he didn't live alone, now that things weren't as black and white in his life as he preferred them to be, now that he had Elizabeth Webber constantly around, constantly confusing the hell out of him.

He had kissed her. Granted, he had been drunk out of his mind, but, still, he had once heard that alcohol loosens the tongue enough for unwanted truths to be admitted. While he, thankfully, had not said anything, as far as he knew, that he regretted, he had physically, at least, confessed that he was attracted to his inhospitable roommate… not that she seemed to reciprocate the physical temptation. No, rather, according to Elizabeth, she had pushed him away; she had been the one to end their embrace. However, at the same time, she also refused to allow him to apologize for his advances.

The woman was infuriating. He did not understand a word that came out of her mouth, and there were only two things that they seemed to be able to agree upon. The first was Cameron. Her little boy was easy to love. He was sweet but still mischievous enough to be interesting. He was inquisitive, well behaved, and, unlike his mother, receptive to Jason's overtures of friendship. The second thing that he and the petite brunette agreed upon was their utter exasperation with each other. They could not have a conversation without fighting, and they could not see eye to eye – on anything.

And, so, that's why he was tinkering. Instead of confronting the woman he lived with, he was hiding outside in the little shed that occupied the safe house's property. It was just big enough to store his bike and a few tools, and he had been out there fixing nothing in particular for nothing was broken to fix on his motorcycle, avoiding the place he was currently supposed to consider home. When he had arrived back from his final meeting, a tense yet productive conference between himself and the five families where they discussed Sonny's timely demise, Max had warned him that Elizabeth was, once again, upset with him. Supposedly, according to the stocky Italian, she had been complaining to Will and Ritchie, and, before their shift was up, they had passed the information along to him.

Damn gossips.

While he could appreciate the fact that his men were giving him a head's up on the twenty-two year old's unpredictable moods, he did not want to contemplate the idea of them reciprocating the favor in her direction. That was the last thing he needed – his employees talking about him behind his back to Elizabeth, and, knowing his guards, he wouldn't put such fickleness past them. They were notoriously known for their interfering ways, and, now, it looked as though they had struck again, because, evidently, according to Max, his roommate wanted to talk to him. Not yell, or scream, or bicker, she wanted to _talk_.

It wasn't so much that he was opposed to such an idea. In fact, he had known for weeks that eventually he and Elizabeth were going to have to get past their petty arguments and come up with a way to coexist and really work together. Despite the fact that their arrangement was supposed to be temporary, it had turned into anything but. For the foreseeable future, their lives would be, at least, indirectly linked. She and her son were now under his protection. For how long, Jason wasn't sure, but he wasn't about to risk their lives simply to make his own easier. Not only did he feel partially responsible for Lucky's death, leaving Elizabeth a single mother and Cameron one parent short of a complete pair, but he liked the toddler, and he felt… something… towards the little boy's mother. What that was, though, the mob boss wasn't entirely sure, and he definitely wasn't interested in finding out.

"It's cold out here."

Whirling around to face the sudden intrusion upon his formerly private, quiet oasis, the blonde kingpin found the woman currently occupying his thoughts, the woman who seemed to always be occupying his thoughts these days, standing in the open doorway of the tiny shed, her small arms wrapped tightly around her shivering form. Although she had slipped on a pair of shoes, in an effort to be quick, she had, apparently, skipped adding on a coat, instead proceeding outside in a simple, ripped pair of old, worn jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt.

He watched her, observed her behavior, took in her appearance, and, when the silence lasted too long between them, Elizabeth, once more, decided to fill it. "With all this rain we've been having, March hasn't really had the chance to warm up yet. However, they say the showers will bring flowers, but I think that's supposed to be for April and May, not March." Shrugging her slight shoulders, she avoided his gaze, focusing her wondering eyes on his bike instead. "Anyway, I was never too good with those old wives tales."

Pulling on his ear, Jason hesitantly offered, "if you like that kind of stuff, you should pick up a Farmer's Almanac."

She seemed surprised by his suggestion, caught off guard by his open, affable tone, but, rather than fighting it like she typically would, the single mother just nodded, apparently agreeing to consider his idea. Unfurling her arms, she dropped them to her sides only to anxiously plunge them deeply into her jeans' pockets, nervously rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. "So, if you're not busy…"

"I'm not," the blonde was quick to reassure her.

"Well, then, I was hoping that maybe we could talk." Unconsciously, his face must have frowned, because Elizabeth rushed on. "And I'm serious. I promise, I won't try to pick a fight with you, at least, not tonight."

"We both seem to get under each other's skin," he allowed graciously, agreeing silently to himself to meet her half way. Before she could react or respond, he reached behind him, sightlessly feeling around with his left hand until he found what he was looking for. Taking the helmet into his grasp and then his leather jacket, he passed them both along to the woman standing before him, her tentative yet acquiescing reaction leaving him feeling slightly hopeful.

"What's this?"

Finding himself unable to resist, Jason teased the brunette, "what does it look like, Webber? It's a helmet and a coat."

She glared at him, but the action wasn't laced with animosity or even impatience; it was almost good-natured, playful. "I realize that, but why are you giving them to me?"

"If we're going for a ride, you'll need to wear them."

"A ride?"

This time it was his turn to fidget, his turn to shuffle in excess, awkward energy. "I, uh," Jason paused, lifting his hand to uncertainly tug at his right ear lobe. "Max will keep an eye on Cameron, and riding helps to clear my head. It relaxes me, and I just thought that…"

"If we're going to do this, if we're finally going to talk without blowing up at each other," the single mother finished for him, "that we might want to be in a better frame of mind first."

For some reason, maybe it was because she already seemed to understand his motivations, the crime lord didn't think it was necessary to tell her that she was correct. By the fact that he wheeled out his motorcycle from the shed, climbed upon it, and then held out his hand to help Elizabeth do the same, he assumed she had figured out that her hypothesis had been correct. And, when she, without doubt or delay, placed her hand, a hand he involuntarily realized was quite soft and fit into his own rough, calloused grasp rather nicely, into his outstretched palm, he acknowledged her acceptance of his offer for a ride without question or comment.

Once she was situated, the helmet clumsily, somewhat adorably arranged upon her head and the far too large for her slight frame jacket tugged onto her body and zipped up, he started the bike. Kicking up the stand, he held them balanced with both his equally distributed weight and his legs as he turned around to give the slightly trembling brunette directions. Whether she was shaking from excitement or nerves, he wasn't sure, and he didn't ask. He couldn't, not then.

"You're going to have to hold on to me." When her eyes flared in both awareness and contention, he insisted, "it's for your own safety, so you don't fall off. Also," he continued, not giving her a chance to protest, "when we go around a curve, you'll need to lean your body with mine. Just follow what I do, and you'll be okay." Revving the engine, the mob boss couldn't help but smirk as he added, "and, if there's something you don't like, just scream."

With that, he took off like a shot, gunning the throttle so that they reached impossibly fast, illegally fast speeds much too quickly for a beginning rider. It wasn't that he was trying to scare his roommate, and he wasn't being selfish, forgetting about her own needs in order to meet the intense urgency he felt to lose himself in the wind and rush of adrenaline. He simply had a suspicion that the woman behind him would love riding as much as he did, and, as they crested their first hill, rolling over the top and gaining even more speed as they flew down the steep slope, the hill slightly curving at the end, he knew he was right. While Elizabeth screamed, it wasn't out of fear or fright; she screamed because she felt alive, because she was having fun, because she was a natural.

On and on, they rode. He took roads that would have been dangerous for drivers with less skill, knowing that the brunette would enjoy the bends and twists just as much as she would the long, narrow straight-aways. There were several places he could have stopped in order for them to talk as was the reason behind their impromptu ride together, but he didn't. Instead, he savored the freedom and the camaraderie the two of them felt on the open road, knowing that, as soon as they stopped, the amity would cease.

However, Elizabeth was a first time rider, so he also knew that her body wouldn't be as adjusted, as used to the seemingly benign abuse a motorcycle visited upon one's frame. So, after nearly an hour of speeding through the Port Charles' countryside, the blonde found a clearing and pulled over. He had been there before, to that particular spot. In fact, it was one of his favorite places to just be, and, as the two of them climbed off his bike, Jason was slightly shocked at himself for even considering bringing the twenty-two year old there, let alone actually following through with the action. But, when he had parked his bike at the old, abandoned bridge, there had been no forethought, no planning; rather, he had been acting on instinct.

They walked slowly towards the one structure that gave the clearing a purpose, and, together, they stood overlooking the stone wall, their gazes both locked on the deep gorge below. Words didn't come easily to either of them. Why Elizabeth was so still, especially since talking had been her idea, he wasn't sure. Maybe she was still focused on their ride, enjoying the remaining sensations leftover from the wind and the blinding velocity, or, perhaps, she was just still too anxious to say what was on her mind. Either way, he knew that she was right, that they did need to talk, so, taking the reins himself, the mobster decided to open the floodgates.

"After my accident, I had no one - no one to trust, no one to believe in me, no one to turn to… at least, not until I met Sonny." As soon as the older man's name burst forth from his lips, he heard the brunette beside him gasp in surprise. Obviously, she had not been expecting such a confession. "He gave me a job, he took me in, he trusted me, but, most importantly, he became my friend. He would talk to me, not as if I was some brain damaged science experiment but like I was just another, regular guy. To Sonny, I was no different than any of his other employees, than him."

Glancing at the woman beside him out of the corner of his eye, Jason saw that she was biting her lip, probably in an effort to remain quiet, to contain either her thoughts or her feelings, and he was grateful for her reserve. That appreciation spurred him on. "I'm sure that same blind acceptance is what made you like him, trust him, too, but, Elizabeth, if there's nothing else you believe tonight, please believe me when I tell you that Sonny is not… was not the man you thought he was. I can promise you that, and I don't make promises lightly."

Changing topics rapidly, the kingpin, without warning, delved back into the past. "Through Sonny, I met someone named Robin. She befriended me, she taught me things, and, at the time, I thought that I was falling in love with her."

Too surprised to evidently remain silent any longer, Elizabeth softly interjected, asking, "what happened?"

"Well, Robin… she had this…" Struggling to find the right words, he finally settled with, "this ingrained sense of right and wrong, and, while she liked me, she didn't like what I did. I don't know if her conscience got to her, or if she caved under pressure from her uncle who just so happened to be the police commissioner, but, a few months after we started dating, she tried to turn me in to the feds."

Because he didn't want her sympathy, because he didn't want her pity, Jason rushed on, eager to finish with the summary of his past. "Luckily, my lawyers got me out of that mess, but, afterwards, I guess you could say that I closed myself off… even more. Sonny and I, we were still close, but, until I met Carly, he was the only person I trusted.

"It was about the same time that Sonny started to lose touch with reality that Carly came into my life. My best friend was falling into this deep depression. He had just left his fiancée at the altar, she committed suicide, and he was just a bottle of pills away from following her. The organization was a mess. The guys were uneasy, some were threatening to leave or to sell what information they had, and I had to do something if I didn't want Sonny to lose everything. So, I stepped in."

Sighing, he ran a hand through his short cropped hair, stepping away from Elizabeth's side and pacing the short length of the bridge as he talked. "The move was only supposed to be short term. I would run the organization while Sonny got help… except he didn't want to get help; he didn't think that he needed it, so he saw my actions as a betrayal, as a hostile takeover, and he moved against me in an effort to reclaim the territory.

"It didn't work. At the time, he didn't have the means or the backing to unseat me, and, eventually, he ran away with his tail between his legs. Where he went and what he did, I'm not sure. While I tried to keep track of him, Sonny's behavior before he left Port Charles was erratic at best, and, afterwards, it just got worse. Eventually, he disappeared from my radar until just a few weeks ago when he popped back up, conveniently remaking your acquaintance."

He didn't want to fight about Sonny, and he certainly didn't want his roommate to see how frustrated he still was with her absolute loyalty to the insane former mobster, so, instead of giving her a chance to respond, he continued talking himself. "Like I said, at the same time that all this was going down, Carly came into my life. We, uh," blushing slightly, Jason refused to look at Elizabeth when he confessed, "we slept together… a few times, but I quickly realized that I didn't care for her… in that way. So, I broke things off, and I insisted that we just be friends. But she ended up pregnant and claimed the kid was mine.

"Long story short, he wasn't, and she lied to me for months until I found out the truth. I haven't seen or heard from Carly since the night I kicked her out of my house… and my life, and, after she was gone, I just tried to forget about her – about her lies, about what she did to me, about Sonny and the mess he made of both of our lives, about Robin, but, then, three years later, you waltzed into my world, and, suddenly, I couldn't forget anymore."

In frustration, he turned the petite brunette around, confronting her with his admission, his guilt, and his pain, all three of which were quite evidently displayed upon his tortured, grimacing face. "You, Elizabeth Webber, who look so much like Robin, because you're both small and short with pale skin and dark hair, and you who, at times, remind me so much of Carly. You're both stubborn, and feisty, and neither of you ever back down from a fight. Plus, you have a little boy, a son who is just a few months older than my own child would have been had Carly not been lying. Worst of all, of all the people in the world you could have befriended, you went and found Sonny… or he found you, whatever happened – the man who tried to kill me just a couple of months ago, the man who broke my trust when he insisted upon thinking the worst of me, the man who… because of his actions, left me with so much guilt over _your _boyfriend's, _your son's _father's death."

"Oh my god," Elizabeth breathed out in shock, her legs giving away beneath her as she crumbled to ground. Incapable of saying anything else, she simply repeated herself, her words, the second time, even slighter, even more broken sounding. "Oh my god."

Kneeling beside her, the blonde reached out a tentative hand in a gesture of comfort, but, quickly, he pulled it back, unsure if his touch would be welcome. "Hey," he started in an attempt to recapture his roommate's attention, but, before he could say anything else, the single mother was already gazing back up towards him, tears lining her wide, haunted blue eyes.

"It was him… it was Sonny, all this time? Why didn't you…"

"While you might think that you're over Lucky, that you've grieved for him, you never get over that kind of loss, not completely, and I just…" As his voice trailed away, the crime lord shrugged. "I didn't want to be the one who made you relive that pain all over again. Going through it once was already more than you deserved, and it was my fault then, because Sonny set that fire to get to me, because it was my garage that Lucky lived in that was targeted, and I couldn't hurt you like that for a second time."

"And now?"

"And now," he repeated her question, using it to brace both himself and her for what he was about to say. "I guess I just realized that I couldn't keep the secret from you any longer. Whether either of us likes it, we're stuck with each other for a while. My enemies know that, for whatever the reasons, you and your son matter to me, and, more than that, I want to help you." Before she could protest, he insisted, "and it has nothing to do with my guilt, or with pity, Elizabeth. I like your son, and, when I told you last night that you had all that potential when you were eighteen, what I should have said is that you still do. You're more than just a waitress, and I can help you realize that… if you'll just let me."

Stubbornly, she lifted her chin. "I won't accept charity."

"And I don't give it out," he shot back, smirking, "not when it's unnecessary. We'll work something out that we can both agree upon but not tonight. I think we've done enough for one evening."

Standing, he held his hands out, helping the brunette rise to her feet as well. Once they were both upright, he went to pull away, but she held on, making him quirk two brows in question. "There's one more thing that I think we need to talk about, Jason." When he remained quiet, she pressed on. "There's no reason for Cameron and I to still be living with you."

"But the danger…"

"Look, you were right all along," Elizabeth interrupted, stalling the mobster's words. "Sonny was the one coming after you the whole time, and, as painful as it is for me to admit this, I was wrong. But you handled the situation. Sonny can no longer hurt you… or me and my son, for that matter, and, while, yes, I understand that you have other enemies, no one's coming after you right now." Taking a deep breath, the twenty-two year old continued. "I just think that you can tone down some of the security measures. For Pete's sake, this isn't Fort Knox, Morgan."

After everything that he had told her, after everything he had just confessed, she still didn't get it. While she might finally believe him about Sonny, she still didn't understand what she and her son represented to him, what they meant to him, and he realized then and there that she probably never would. In her eyes, he was still the cold hearted, calculating, unfeeling mob boss, the same man who had practically forced her into taking care of him all those nights before. She would never grasp just how much he cared for her little boy or the fact that he was starting, for some inexplicable reason, to care for her as well. And, with that comprehension, Jason decided that it was time to let go… before he really gave her the means to hurt him like no one else ever had before.

"Alright," he agreed uncertainly. "While I may not like it, this is your life, and Cameron is your son, so you get to make the decisions here. We'll cut some things back, if that's what you want."

"And," she prompted him, her beautiful eyes opening wide with teasing persuasion.

"And I'll move out. You and Cameron can stay in the safe house we're currently at so that he doesn't have to relocate again, and I'll go live somewhere else until my building is rebuilt."

As if realizing that she still held his hands in her own, the pretty brunette ended their contact, releasing his fingers as if his skin scalded her own. Backing up, she tucked her hair behind her ears and then started for his parked bike. "So," she yelled out over her shoulder as she walked away from him, physically and emotionally, "how hard is it to drive one of these things anyway?"

He couldn't help it. Jason grinned at her enthusiasm for his bike, and, as one last gesture, maybe as one last apology for all the things he had put her through during the past several weeks, he knew that he'd let her drive his motorcycle back home… with his help, of course. Besides, resignedly, he knew that would be the only way he'd ever be able to hold her in his arms, and, at that point, he'd have to take whatever he could get. It would be their symbolic goodbye to each other… even if Elizabeth didn't realize that's what he was giving her.


	19. Chapter 19

**Safe… No More**

**Chapter Nineteen  
FNF#28: Passion makes the world go round. Love just makes it a safer place. **_**~ Ice T**_

The showers of March had led to more showers in April, and the showers of April had led to even more showers in May. Port Charles, that year, was experiencing a very wet spring. Roads were constantly being washed out, rivers were overflowing, and several culverts had been ripped apart thanks to the floods that ran rampant through the upstate town. Quite frankly, it was a mess.

Luckily, the safe house she and her son were living in was secure. It was built on high ground, so it was free from the excess, pooling waters, and, even if it wasn't, she had no doubt that Jason's men would have found a way to keep her and her little boy safe. Although, as per their agreement, the mob boss had removed himself from her life, his guards still looked after them, and, if Elizabeth was honest with herself, she'd be forced to admit that she was thankful for their presence. And it wasn't so much the illusion of safety that they provided her with but that she was thankful for but their companionship.

Will and Ritchie, Max and even his younger brother Milo whom she had met now just a handful of times, none of the bodyguards were her friends, but they, at least, talked to her, unlike every other adult she ran into. The instructors at Cameron's daycare center spoke to her because it was their job, but they didn't go shopping together, not that she had the spare money to spend so frivolously, nor did they have girls nights out at local bars or get their nails done together. The professors she had met thus far were kind, but they weren't sociable. They were well aware of the fact that students and teachers should not and would not mix company outside of class, and she respected the boundaries they adhered to. As for her fellow students, there was nothing they could bond over. Everyone else was carefree and eighteen, while she was twenty-two and a mother, and the two different lifestyles did not mix well.

So, she was thankful that, when he picked her up from class in the morning to take her to her cleaning site for the afternoon, Will allowed her to ramble endlessly on about her latest assignment or project. And she appreciated the fact that Ritchie, when she got Cam in the evenings, would discuss with her all the things her young son had done that day. And she liked the fact that Max and even Milo would give her updates about the town, keeping her informed of all the gossip she had previously been in the dark about. That's how she knew of the mayor's most recent scandal, how she knew there was a vacant seat on the hospital board after a member had to retire abruptly after getting caught in a supply closet with a young, impressionable nurse, and how she knew Lucy Coe _had _ended up in her underwear yet again at the Nurses' Ball that year.

The rest of her life, though, was just as equally boring. Sedate. Lonely. In the morning, she woke up, showered, and got dressed, only to repeat the same process with her three year old before she made them both breakfast. After dropping him off at daycare, she proceeded to go to PCU where she was taking two comprehensive courses that May. With classes five days a week, the courses would be complete in three weeks' time, and then she would have a week off before repeating the same schedule over again for June, July, and August.

After class, Will met her outside, and, then, he drove her to various buildings owned by their mutual boss. As per their agreement of reimbursement for both tuition and housing, she worked for Jason as a housekeeper, sweeping, dusting, and washing windows at both his safe houses and his various shops and offices. She worked six days a week, six hours a day, and the labor was physical and, sometimes, grueling, but she liked how exhausted the work left her each night.

By the time she picked her toddler up from daycare and the two of them ended back up at the safe house they called home, her body was physically tired, and she could focus upon playing with her little boy and completing her homework only to start up the same routine the very next day. Because she was so busy, it left her little time to realize just how bored, how friendless she was.

For more than four years, she had lived on her own, Cameron eventually joining her, but, after just a few weeks where their former household of two became three, it was hard for Elizabeth to readjust to it just being she and her son again. While she didn't miss the fighting, she missed knowing that _someone _was there… even if she didn't particularly like who that someone was very much. Quite simply, she kind of missed Jason, but, obviously, he didn't feel the same way.

She had thought, after they agreed upon their arrangement, that they would sometimes run into each other while she was at work, but the kingpin was never at the same place she was. After the first week, she had thought it was just a strange coincidence. After two, she had started to become suspicious, but, now, a month and a half later, she knew that the blonde mobster was avoiding her on purpose, and she was kind of hurt by the fact. While she certainly didn't consider them friends, they had made quite a bit of headway that last night they lived together in coming to some kind of understanding. He told her about his past, he explained to her why he had been so positive that Sonny was the enemy, and he had even allowed her to drive his bike.

That was another thing she missed: Jason's motorcycle. Although she had only been on the back of the machine once, twice if the ride to the bridge and the ride back were counted separately, Elizabeth had known the moment they descended that very first hill together that she was addicted. She liked the speed, and the wind, and the adrenaline, but, most of all, she had liked the feeling of working as a team with the man she was wrapped so tightly around.

Their mutual animosity had disappeared, and their bodies had flowed together like one as they took the curves faster than advisable. It had been so long since she had felt like a part of any functioning relationship, that the cooperation and solidarity had been addicting. She had never wanted that ride to come to an end, and, when it did, she had somehow believed that it wouldn't be their last one. The single mother had been able to sense the fact that Jason was well aware of her reaction to his bike, and she had hoped, trusted that he would grant her the pleasure of speeding down a deserted highway again someday. Apparently, though, she had been wrong, because, not only had his bike been missing in action from her life, but the bike's owner had completely disappeared as well.

However, she refused to focus on the negative, because, for the first time in years, her life wasn't so bleak. She actually had a future, and so did her son. With Jason's help, the twenty-two year old was going to be able to turn her life around, she was going to be able to make something of herself, and that was what she needed to concentrate upon. And, most of the time, she could do this; most of the time, her former contrived roommate was the very last thing on her mind, but then she would hear the sound of a motorcycle gunning its engine down a street, or she would walk into a tense conversation about the mob boss between two of his guards at the coffee warehouse, and they would immediately clam up and refuse to say anything more until she was busy and occupied in another room.

And then there was Cameron. Just as she had feared, her little boy had been disappointed when Jason suddenly disappeared from their lives. While she was partially to blame for the fact, seeing as how she had asked Jason to let them go, she never dreamed he would react so suddenly, so definitively. She had thought that he would linger, that he would occasionally drop in to check on them… or, at least, her three year old, but he never did. After their ride and talk all those weeks before, he had packed his meager belongings the next morning and walked away without even telling Cam goodbye.

At first, a part of her had wondered if letting go of her son had been too daunting of a thought for the crime lord to face, if he simply vanished because it was too painful to actually say goodbye, but, then, a larger part of her started to wonder if maybe her son hadn't mattered to the kingpin after all, because, if he had, she had no idea how Jason could just forget about him so easily. Besides, she had never stipulated that the blonde couldn't ever see her little boy; she just had wanted him to move out. Not only was such a decision healthier for her, but she didn't want her son to start thinking that such an arrangement would be permanent or that it meant anything more… like the three of them were a family when they most definitely were not.

But, now, it was a month and a half later, and her toddler was still asking for his friend. His birthday was coming up soon, he was turning four, and, whenever she tried to ask him what he wanted for his present, Cameron stubbornly refused to ask for a toy and insisted that he wanted Jason. While many things could be said against her parenting skills, Elizabeth did try to give her little boy what he wanted, so she had left notes for Jason in all the various places she cleaned. She left one in his office, she left one with his secretary at the coffee warehouse, and she had left ones on all the safe house refrigerators. But, still, she heard nothing from the reclusive mobster.

So, she had talked to Will, pleading with him to pass the message of Cam's birthday wish along to his boss. While her guard had agreed, and she had no reason to suspect that he had lied to her, Jason still didn't contact her. She had received the save results from Ritchie, and Max, and even poor Milo. All three men had agreed to speak with their employer, and she trusted them enough to know that they had not told her one thing and then turned around and done something else, but, again, there was no word from the man she had once lived with.

She had one option left. On the morning that Jason had moved out of their shared safe house, he had left behind a number for her. If ever she needed him directly, if ever something happened to her, or Cameron, or one of their guards, she was supposed to call that number to get in touch with him. But she knew that number was for emergencies only, and she wasn't sure how the blonde would react if she called him because her three year old wanted to see him on the day that he turned four. Despite the panic she was in to give her son what he wanted for his birthday, Elizabeth had a sneaking suspicion that the kingpin wouldn't deem the situation an urgent one.

But the single mother was pretty sure that she was going to break down and call him anyway. She still had several weeks to go, though, so she was hoping that she would somehow accidentally run into him or that her constant badgering would eventually lead to results. Time would tell.

However, in the interim, there were other things she needed to do, other things she needed to think about. She had her first college paper knew the next week, and she was determined to get a good grade. While English had never been her strong suit in high school, the brunette also knew that was more because she spent most of her time daydreaming about Lucky and not because she lacked talent or intelligence. Plus, she had her own home to take care of and a little boy who was quite adorably making a play for her attention.

They had already finished dinner, and the simple yet pleasant everyday custom of bath time had been completed. Cameron was in his pajamas, his teeth were brushed, and she could see he was yawning widely. However, by his stubborn expression and the fact that he was sitting on her school books with a pout on his full lips and his little arms crossed over his chest in resistance, she knew that he did not want to go to bed yet.

Still, she tried to appease him. "Cam, honey, do you want Mommy to read you a story?"

"No."

"Do you want me to make you a cup of hot chocolate?"

"No."

Reaching, she suggested, "instead of a bedtime story tonight, we could color together… if you want."

Unfortunately, he didn't even consider her offer. "No."

Sighing, she relented, "alright, Mr. Webber. Tell me, then, what _do_ _you _want to do this evening?"

Happily, for he knew he was going to get his way, he ran across the living room and launched himself against her legs, wrapping his short arms around her jean clad appendages. Glancing up at her, a smile illuminating both his gaze and his expression, he joyously asked, "tell me your painting, Mama."

"What?"

Taking her hand, he pulled her across the living room, positioning the two of them in front of her easel where a new, freshly completed painting was drying. The day after Jason had moved out, a truck load of art supplies had moved in, the excuse being given that she would need them for school. It was just one more thing she was determined to pay the kingpin back for. Pointing to the easel, Cameron repeated, "tell me your painting."

Slightly exasperated, she admitted, "honey, Mommy doesn't understand."

But her little boy only laughed at her befuddled appearance. "S'plain it, Mama," he clarified.

In realization, Elizabeth sighed merrily. "Oh," and, picking her son up, she agreed, "I can do that." Settling him on her left hip so that her right hand would be free to point things out, she started to do just what her three year old requested. "Did you know that Jason once took Mommy on a motorcycle ride?"

At Cam's wide eyed surprise, she laughed out loud. "I guess not. Anyway, I loved it."

"It was fun?"

"Oh, baby," she gushed, smiling just from the memory, "it was the most fun I've ever had. Anyway," she refocused them, "this is what riding on the back of his bike looked like."

"Yeah, but _what _is it, Mama," the toddler whined impatiently.

Again, Elizabeth just giggled. "Well, Jason drove really fast, so I couldn't really see anything; it was all just this big blur. Like this red spot, it's actually the Applejack's sign, because Mommy couldn't read the words as we zoomed past. And this yellow thing," she pointed towards the appropriate color on the drying canvas, "this is the huge door at Angelina's House of Beauty."

Animatedly, her son asked, "what are these black loops?"

"That is the very top of the Ferris wheel. Remember, we rode on it once last summer?"

Cameron nodded, snuggling his little head into her shoulder. "I like your pretty painting, Mama," he told her, his words soft with truth and rapidly approaching slumber. "It's nice." Yawning, he added, "I think Jason would like it, too."

Instead of responding, the single mother simply carried her toddler to his bed, tucking him in with a hug and a kiss to the forehead. He fell asleep quickly, never protesting once or asking for a story, and silently, slowly, forlornly she returned to the still and empty living room to do her homework, just as lonely as she had been twenty minutes before.


	20. Chapter 20

**Safe… No More**

**Chapter Twenty  
FNF#29: The "La luna del cacciatore" – The "Hunter's Moon"**

The car ride home that evening was even quieter than normal. It didn't help matters that Cameron had fallen asleep, but Elizabeth also felt as though the strange, almost eerie light from the outside night didn't help matters either. The moon that evening was large and round, full and almost red in hue. Although it had been years, she could still remember a trip she had taken to Georgia with her family as a child. Her mother had relatives in the Southern state, and Elizabeth had spent the majority of her time there marveling over the fact that their soil looked as though it was stained with blood. Now, practically a lifetime later, the moon hanging above her made those distant memories return startlingly clear.

It was so captivating, so illuminating, that it made the dark, still shadows of the moving vehicle she was riding in that much more apparent. Long ago, she had quit riding in the backseat with her son. After making less stringent security arrangements with Jason, it had been agreed upon that, when she picked up her little boy from daycare, Will could go home, and Ritchie would drive the two of them back to the safe house, and riding in the backseat while the bodyguard drove them, practically serving as a chauffeur, had made the single mother feel as though she was treating him life a servant. So, now, she rode in the front, making conversation between the adults easier, but, unfortunately, on that particular evening, the thing they always talked about had left them in a lurch by deciding to take a quick nap.

Plus, it didn't help matters that she had a few decidedly less safe topics of conversation on her mind either. Fidgeting discontentedly on the leather seat, the petite brunette frowned at her own wavering reflection in the tinted passenger side window. The image wasn't complete, and it was difficult to truly see, but she knew the shadowed shape was her own face, and, displeased with herself, she glowered at her own indecipherable likeness.

Really, it was ridiculous that she was even worried about _him_. If the man refused to get in touch with her after repeated notes and messages sent via the guards, then that was his problem. Not hers. But the fact remained that she was worried, not only because it was still up in the air whether he would see Cameron on his birthday or not but also because, even during their worst arguments, Jason had never purposely avoided her or ignored her when she needed something. Looking back now, two months after he had moved out of both the house they had shared and her and her toddler's life, she could admit that. No matter what his faults, the mobster had, at least, attempted to provide them with whatever it was they needed… at least, once he was financially able to.

She should have just been satisfied with her life, she should have just been happy that Jason had respected her wishes enough to give her what she had asked for, but she couldn't let her concern drop, and she knew she wouldn't be able to relax until she finally got some answers. So, resolution made, the new college student decided to ease her way into a conversation about their mutual employer with her son's guard, testing the waters first with some rather innocuous questions.

"So, Ritchie…"

Despite the fact that she didn't turn to look at the security expert, she could hear the smirk in his voice as he returned, "so, Elizabeth…?"

Hoping that his own eyes remained on the road – where they should rightfully be, the young mother sat anxiously in her seat, twisting and twining her fingers together. It was an easy tell of just how on edge she was, and she didn't want the guard to notice. Trying to keep her tone light, airy, unconcerned, just one person being polite to another, she asked, "how have you been?"

"Alright," the man beside her answered just as pleasantly. "And you?"

"Oh, you know, same old, same old." Rolling her eyes at how ludicrous she sounded, Elizabeth bit back a snort of exasperation at her own expense. Clearing her throat, she added, "uh, school… and work keep me busy. Plus, there's always Cameron, too."

"I know what you mean."

Surprised she wondered out loud, "you're a student, Ritchie?"

"Not anymore," he explained, sparing her a quick glance out of the corner of her eye. With just that brief contact, she felt herself shrink even further into the leather upholstery of her cushioned seat. "I graduated last year, but, while I was still in school, I worked full time for Mr. Morgan."

"I see." Really, she didn't. After all, what would a professional bodyguard study in college, but, while she might have been feeling brave that evening, she didn't feel brave enough to ask _that_. Changing tactics, she queried, "and what about a family. Do you have one?"

The bodyguard laughed. "Doesn't everyone?"

Pouting, she retorted, "you know what I mean."

"My parents are still alive," Ritchie responded, trying to mask the humor in his tone, "but they retired a few years back and now live in Arizona, so I don't see much of them. I have a couple of cousins, some aunts and uncles, but we're not close, and my little sister goes to school out in California, so I only see her during breaks."

"At least you know your family is around if you need them," Elizabeth stated, suddenly both sounding and feeling wistful. "At least they want you to know where they are."

"You family – Cameron," the security expert reminded her. "The two of you always know where the other one is. While it's not a traditional family, it's still yours. Plus," he added cautiously, tentatively. She wasn't sure if he was being careful with his words for her sake or his own. "You have us guards, too."

"You're right, I do," the single mother agreed with him. Smiling in the dark haired man's direction whether he could see the gesture of warmth or not, she redirected their conversation towards her predetermined subject. "And do you consider your coworkers a part of your family, too?"

"Well, sure, some of them."

"Like Will, and Max, and Milo…"

"And Francis," Ritchie added. "You haven't met him yet, because he runs our interests down in Puerto Rico, but he's a great guy. Quiet, unassuming, but kind, whenever you need advice, he's your man. Francis knows a little something about everything, it seems. Just wait," he informed her. "You'll see what I mean when he's home for Christmas later this year and you get to meet him at the employees' holiday party. I'll make sure I introduce the two of you… if Francis doesn't seek you out on his own first."

"And why would he do that?"

"Oh, well, um…"

"We've known each other now for a few months, Ritchie," Elizabeth chastised the young guard. "You don't have to hide things from me."

"Some things I do, Miss Webber," he contradicted, and she knew he was talking about business.

"Yeah, but this is personal."

"Francis… and some of the other guys… well, you see, they're curious about you," the bodyguard revealed.

"Curious," the twenty-two year old wanted to know. "Why? About what?"

"You know," he hedged, sounding completely uncomfortable with the direction their discussion had moved to, "because of Jason."

Bingo! Finally, after nearly ten minutes of small talk, they had arrived at their destination. Although she felt slightly guilty for practically tricking poor Ritchie into talking about their boss, obviously he wasn't that against the idea, for he had brought up the kingpin's name; she hadn't. Plus, Jason had it coming. After avoiding her for weeks, months, she wanted some answers, and, if she had to talk to her son's guard to get them, then so be it.

"No, quite frankly, I don't understand. What do I have to do with Jason?"

In a frustrated huff, the security expert demanded, "you're really going to make me say it… out loud, aren't you?"

"I think you're going to have to, Ritchie, because I have no idea what you're trying to get at."

Sighing dejectedly, the guard admitted, "Francis is curious, because Jason's never done anything like this before."

"Like what?"

"Broken his own rules," the dark haired man beside her revealed. "No women involved in business, period. He won't even hire a female attorney, even if they are the most qualified, and, while, sure, that's sexual discrimination, of all the things Jason Morgan's going to get charged with, that's the last one you know the police are going to bring against him. But you… He lived with you for weeks, he let you treat his wounds, and now, not only do you still live in one of his safe houses, but you're working for him, too."

While it wasn't exactly the information she was after, it, at least, was a start. "And what does _he_, what does Jason have to say about all this?"

"Are you kidding me," Ritchie asked stunned, practically laughing at the end of his astounded exclamation. "We don't talk to Jason about this kind of stuff, not about you."

"And why not?"

"Oh, I've said enough already," he protested, clamming up. "That's something you'll have to ask him for yourself."

"And maybe I would," Elizabeth countered, suddenly infuriated, "but the damn man avoids me. Do you know that I haven't seen him since the night before he moved out? I've been trying to reach him concerning Cameron's birthday… as you know, but, still, nothing."

"He still hasn't called you about that?"

Rolling her eyes despite the fact that the guard couldn't see her childish, rebellious actions, the brunette complained, "not even a freaking hang up."

"Well, in Jason's defense," Ritchie offered, "he has been pretty busy lately."

"Oh, doing what?"

"There was a lot of work to be done after he came out of hiding," the bodyguard explained. "And, with the Towers getting rebuilt, he's been run pretty ragged."

"Yeah, but that's stuff that he takes care of during the day. He has his evenings free, at least some of them. Why can't he call then?"

"Honestly, I don't know," the security expert answered candidly. "Johnny did tell me that he's been out riding a lot lately, staying out all evening and not coming in until the early morning. Then he goes to work and starts the whole process over again."

Quietly, almost shyly, she asked one more question, seeing as how they were pulling into the safe house's driveway. "And his burns, his injuries… there haven't been any complications, right?"

"No, Elizabeth," the guard reassured her. "Physically, at least, Jason's fine."

"Good, good," the young mother commented almost absentmindedly. Opening the passenger side door, she stepped out, moving towards the back of the car to retrieve her still slumbering son. "Seeing as how I was the one who took care of him, I just wanted to make sure." Adding some levity to her tone, she jokingly continued, "wouldn't want to be responsible for permanently maiming Port Charles' very own don," but there was no humor in either her words or her voice. "Night, Ritchie," she offered, shutting the car door without waiting for the bodyguard to return her sentiments.

Later, as she was bathing Cameron before bed, she thought she would try once more to get some information about the withdrawn crime lord driving her practically to distraction. Despite the fact that her little boy had not seen the blonde in months, just like her, he had spent every day, all day with the mob boss for weeks while the three of them had been forced to live together, so the former waitress was hoping that, perhaps, her toddler could give her some insight into the man she was finally realizing she knew practically nothing about. Sure, she had hastily drawn conclusions and predetermined opinions, but, while she had been given the chance to get to know the real person behind the name, behind the face, she had turned her nose up at such an idea, insisting to herself that she already knew who Jason Morgan was. She had been so blind, so foolish, so hypocritical.

"Cam, sweetie," she ventured warily as she kneeled beside the bathtub where her son was playing. His hair was washed, his little body was clean, and, now, he was just entertaining himself with a few Hotwheels and a small water gun. "Remember when Jason lived with us, and you would stay home with him every day?" As her son nodded his head in recognition, she pressed on, "what did the two of you with each other?"

The three, almost four year old shrugged, never looking up from his toys. "Stuff," he revealed, none too accommodatingly.

"Well, yeah, obviously, but what kind of stuff?"

Again, he refused to look at her, and, as she listened to her toddler's voice, she could hear the slight impatience to it. "Fun stuff, Mama," he answered.

Deciding that she needed to be more direct, Elizabeth asked, "did he play with you?"

"Yeah."

"Did he read to you?"

"Uh huh."

"Did the two of you color together?"

This time Cameron giggled. "Yeah." Meeting her gaze, he grinned impishly. "But Jason was a really bad colorer, Mama. He never stayed in the lines."

Mumbling under her breath, she complained, "now, why doesn't that surprise me." Plastering a smile on her face, she, once again, tried to wheedle information out of her only child. "What else did the two of you do while I was at work?"

But her little boy only shrugged, zoomed his miniature cars up her water soaked arms, and ignored her question, too intent upon making racing noises to respond to her inquiries.

And, still, the mobster remained a mystery.


	21. Chapter 21

**Safe… No More**

**Chapter Twenty-One  
FNF#30: For things that are seen pass away, but the things that are unseen are eternal. **_**~ L.M. Montgomery**_

Cameron's birthday had come and gone, but, still, neither she nor her son had seen or heard from Jason.

Sure, he had sent her little boy several presents the day he had turned four, all of which the toddler had been overjoyed to receive. Currently, his gifts from Jason were his favorite toys to play with. The toy motorcycle went with him everywhere – to daycare, in the car, and he even took it to the grocery store and would run the wheels back and forth along the front of the cart as he sat while she shopped. His tricycle was parked in the little shed behind the house, and, after riding it, Cam was always quick to wipe his precious bike down, never wanting it to have a speck of dirt on its shiny, green paint. As for the travel book on the Amazon Rainforest that he had sent her only child, they read a passage from it every night, only for Cameron to nod off clutching the stuffed Chuggin' Charlie the thoughtful mobster had purchased for her little boy.

However, after all his presents had been opened and after he had consumed several cupcakes, Elizabeth had still been able to see the dull sheen of unshed tears in her little boy's eyes when he realized the night of his birthday that his friend wasn't actually coming to see him. The fact that she had been unable to give her son the one thing he had wanted the most crushed the single mother. While, realistically, she knew that failing to provide Jason for her now four year old wasn't something her parenting skills could really be faulted for, she still felt like a failure as a mother. The truth of the matter was, and she could admit it to herself now, that Jason would probably still be living with them if she hadn't of insisted that he move out, and, though she still felt separate living quarters was the right decision for the three of them, she wondered, if she had gone about suggesting it some other way, if the blonde would still have been there for her toddler.

But from regrets results didn't spring, and 'what if's, as Jason had months ago told her, did no one any good, and she was resigned to the fact that the mob boss was no longer an actual presence in her life. Despite the fact that she worked for him, physically he was gone from her world, and, really, that was probably for the best. It was Cameron, anyway, who had grown attached to him, but children were resilient, and, in a few months' time or maybe as long as a year, Jason would only be a distant memory for her little boy, and, eventually, her child would someday forget about him completely… just as Jason, apparently, had already forgotten about them.

Realizing her efforts to contact the crime lord were in vain, she had stopped leaving notes for him, and she no longer harassed the guards for either help or information. Ritchie seemed relieved. When they now talked, the college student made sure that she stuck to safe subjects – the weather, her school work, Cameron's friends at daycare, his planned vacation in July, for he was flying out to spend some time with his parents and sister in Phoenix. It had already been arranged so that, while he was gone, Milo would be Cam's guard, and, though she liked the younger Giambetti brother, she knew that she would miss her friend. And Cam would, too.

Along with her son's birthday coming and going, so had her first two college courses. She had managed to pull off A's in both classes, and she was determined to keep her 4.0 GPA… even when she took on a full course load later that year. Not only did she want to prove to herself that she was capable of such high grades, but she also wanted to show Jason that his faith in her abilities, in her intelligence was justified. While, realistically, Elizabeth knew that she wouldn't sail through college with perfect grades, she felt that consecutive recognition on The Dean's List was something she could achieve.

Now, she was elbow deep in her second set of courses that summer, and June had brought with it warm, summer days. Life was good, and work was getting easier. With a firm routine in place, her cleaning schedule has become proficient and well appreciated. Her last paycheck had revealed that she had earned a raise, and the few extra dollars that amounted to every pay was being placed in a savings account for her little boy. If nothing else, her own life experiences had taught the single mother that it was never too early to start planning for her son's future.

However, things that afternoon were not what she had been expecting. Wednesdays were her designated days to clean the offices at the coffee warehouse, but, when Will had picked her up from class that morning, he had deposited her somewhere new, somewhere she had never been before. It wasn't a new safe house either. Outside, the mystery building was nondescript, rather boring in fact, but, inside, it was arranged and set up to serve as a location to hold meetings. There was a large, windowless board room in which the centerpiece of the space was a large, oval table that could easily seat at least a dozen people if not more. Luxurious, leather chairs were evenly situated around the table, all of them in matching black, and the walls, floor, and ceiling were all decorated in utilitarian, neutral colors. There was a bathroom off of the large room, a small kitchenette, and various smaller rooms of which she had no idea what purpose they served.

Upon arriving, Johnny, a guard she had only met once before but had heard quite a bit about in the meantime, someone whom she was under the impression was Jason's second in command, greeted her. Awkwardly, he had given her a hug, thanking her for all that she had done for his boss and friend, and Elizabeth had to fight a smirk when she realized that the older man really did treat her like a little sister. It was a strange reaction from someone who was practically a stranger.

"So…," she ventured, raising a finely shaped brow in question. "Why exactly am I here?"

"Oh, Will didn't tell you?"

Teasingly, the single mother remarked, "I don't know if you've never noticed this before or if you're just being coy, but your coworkers really don't say much of anything."

Laughing, the Irishman joked, "so we've been told before… numerous times." Without touching her, he held his hand behind the small of her back, gesturing her to lead the way into the open boardroom. "To answer your question, Miss Webber…"

"Please," she interrupted him. "It's just Elizabeth."

"Alright then," Johnny affably agreed. "You're here today, Elizabeth, to, if you wouldn't mind, do a little redecorating."

Now, _that _she had not been expecting. "Really?"

Rolling his eyes, the senior guard responded, "well, look at this place. It's a code blue away from being as antiseptic as a hospital. We use this building for some very important meetings with some equally as important clients and competitors. We need this place to impress."

"And you think I'm the person to make it look that way?"

He shrugged then. "You are a woman, so that means you have to know more about decorating than any of us guys do. Plus," the security expert added, a knowing twinkle illuminating his mischievous green eyes. "Jason said that you're an artist, so this should be right up your creative wheelhouse."

While she knew she should have protested a little longer, and while she was curious whether or not Johnny's boss, their boss, was aware of his right hand man's proposal, the petite brunette couldn't contain the excitement she felt towards the idea of getting her hands on the bland, clean slate of the room before her. Walking around the space in a studious manner, she informed the bodyguard, "I can tell you right now that you're biggest obstacle is going to be lighting. The fact that this place has no windows makes it feel extremely dark, almost claustrophobic."

"But you'll be able to fix that, right," the Irishman suggested knowingly.

Elizabeth just smirked, hitching one slight shoulder in response. "Maybe."

"Well, think about it," he instructed her. "I have some errands to run, but I'll be back in an hour or so, and, hopefully, by then, you'll have a game plan in mind."

"For what?"

"To go shopping for paint and anything else you might need," Johnny answered. "I figured it would take you probably the rest of the week to get this done, so we hired someone else temporarily to cover for you with the rest of your regular duties." Without waiting for her to agree to the job, he continued on. "There's some paper and a few pens, I think some pencils in the top drawer of the kitchenette. Not the best place to keep such things, I realize that, but Jason's all about the practical, you know." Backing out of the room, he signaled towards his watch. "One hour."

And, just like that, he was gone, leaving the former waitress standing there, alone, in the sizeable, plain boardroom, her mouth agape with shock. She had just been steamrolled… again, and, this time, Jason had not been the one to flatten her into submission.

What was with mobsters and their inability to not control every single facet of every single situation?

Aimlessly, she wondered about the room, mentally calculating its dimensions, studying the traffic flow, planning in her mind various different design ideas that she could possibly implement. The college student would be lying if she said redecorating the boardroom didn't appeal to her. While she didn't mind her job cleaning the various offices and buildings owned by the Morgan Organization, it was tedious, repetitive work, and this would give her a break and allow her to put her overflowing abundance of creativity to good use. Plus, to say that the room was a challenge was a grievous understatement, and she welcomed such a distraction, such a change to her regular, monotonous pace.

Foregoing the paper and writing instruments, Elizabeth began to construct an image of the space in her mind. While she didn't plan on making the boardroom too exotic, she did want to spice it up a little bit, provide it with some character, really put her mark on the room, and, after seeing just how colorful, just how original Johnny O'Brien's personal style was, she had a feeling the second in command wouldn't argue with anything she had in mind.

Hearing the outside door open behind her, she kept on working, resisting her natural urge to turn around. "I can't believe an hour has already gone by. I'm either a terrible judge of time, or you need a new watch."

No one answered her, and the young mother felt goosebumps form on the back of her neck and rapidly progress down the tender, soft flesh of her back. Although the building's air conditioning was turned off, she suddenly felt chilled in her simple pair of jean shorts and cheap, white tank top. Even her toes, left free and bare in her flip-flops, felt exposed and abruptly ice-cold, but Elizabeth knew that the shift in her body's temperature had nothing to do with either her environment or her choice of dress and everything to do with the fact that the person standing behind her was not Johnny O'Brien but the Irishman's boss, Jason Morgan.

Slowly, the pretty brunette swiveled around to face her former roommate. Swallowing roughly, she tremblingly raised both of her hands to her face, tucking hair back behind her ears that really wasn't even there. Why she was so nervous, why she felt as though she was about to jump out of her own skin, the single mother didn't know. It was _just_ Jason – gruff, infuriating, exasperating _Jason_ who drove her to distraction like no one else could and made her angrier, feistier than anyone else could possibly even imagine. "Hello."

"What are you doing here?"

As always, he got directly to the point.

"Johnny… uh, Mr. O'Brien…" Unsure of how she was to address the top-level guard, Elizabeth flushed timidly. "He, um, said that you wanted the boardroom redecorated, that you wanted me to do it."

"Oh. Yeah."

She waited, waited for him to say more, but, when it became apparent that he wasn't going to, the college student felt her irritation starting to rise towards the kingpin, but she refused to fight with him. After two months of not seeing him and being fully aware that even more time would probably stretch between their next chance meeting, she just wanted to make pleasant, inane conversation… if that was even possible between the two of them.

"He, um, he left me here to get a few ideas, but he should be back shortly if you needed to see him. We're, uh," she fidgeted once more, this time shoving her hands into the back pockets of her cut off shorts, "we're going to go shopping… for supplies."

"Right."

"So," she offered, rocking forward slightly as if the simple movement would inspire Jason to actually meet her half way in their little, awkward conversation. "How have you been?"

Again, answering with only one word, he responded, "busy."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes; she couldn't help it. "So I've heard."

Watching as the blonde across from her uncomfortably lifted a hand to scratch at his left eyebrow, she waited for him to say something in return. "And you?"

"Jason, I'm sure the guards keep you informed about my life." Sighing, she let him off the hook. "You don't have to ask just to be polite."

"I don't… I wouldn't do that. Yes," he admitted, "they tell me the facts. They tell me if you're safe, about any new security measures, things like that, but they don't tell how _you _are."

"Oh," she breathed out in surprise. "Well, then, I'm good. I'm great, actually, and Cameron is wonderful, in case you were curious."

"Thanks," the blonde said softly. "Did he… like his gifts?"

"Loved them," Elizabeth reassured the quiet mobster. "They're all his current favorites, because _you _gave them to him."

"Good, I'm glad."

"He, uh," taking a deep breath, the young mother forged on. "He misses you."

And, as she watched Jason lift his gaze to meet hers for the first time since he stepped into the building, she realized that he knew exactly what she was admitting to, that she was confessing to the fact that, not only did her little boy miss him, but that she did, too, for some unexplainable, incomprehensible reason. "I miss him, too," he returned. And she also knew that, when he repeated the sentiment to her, he, too, was admitting to missing her as well, despite the fact that common sense would dictate otherwise.

Before either of them could say anything else, though, the mob boss' cell phone rang, and he answered it immediately. Patiently, Elizabeth waited for him to end the call, and he did so quickly, crossing the room to her and tugging her along after him as he headed towards the door. "We have to go."

Obviously, something was wrong, and, since Jason was insisting that she go with him, the former waitress guessed that one of his men was hurt, and he needed her to help treat them. Willingly, she allowed him to guide her out of the building and towards his awaiting motorcycle. Even given the situation, the brunette couldn't hide the anticipation mounting inside of her at the thought of finally getting to be on the back of Jason's bike again.

Pausing long enough to hand her the helmet he always kept on his motorcycle, the kingpin went to help her on when she stopped him from doing so, locking their gazes together as she asked, "do you already have supplies where we're going, or do we need to stop in order to pick some up?"

Ineptly, she heard him asking in confusion, "supplies?"

"Yeah, for the man that's hurt," Elizabeth answered. "We are going to take care of one of the guards, right? Someone got shot or stabbed or… you know what, you don't have to tell me. I'll help no matter what the circumstances."

"No," Jason acknowledged her question with a slight shake of his blonde head, reaching out to grasp her by the shoulders. "That's not it." Without realizing what he was admitting, he said, "we have an in-house doctor who takes care of things like that." But, before she could contemplate just what the crime lord's confession meant, he was continuing on, losing her in both his words and the abject fear and misery coloring his usually stoic, placid eyes. "It's not one of my men, Elizabeth."

Swallowing thickly and dropping his now tearful gaze, he brokenly whispered, "it's Cameron."

And that's when her world fell apart.


	22. Chapter 22

**Safe… No More**

**Chapter Twenty-Two  
FNF#31: Maple Syrup.**

Why was it always a fire?

Lucky had died in a fire, leaving her alone to deal with, not only his loss, but also the fact that she was pregnant and still in high school. It had taken her years to mourn his death, and, though Elizabeth believed that she was now past the first boy she had ever loved, she wondered if she would ever fully recover from what his passing, his murder had put her through. And it had certainly affected her little boy's world as well.

Though not as life altering, Jason had come into their lives because of another fire. After his apartment building exploded, she was the one forced to treat and take care of his various wounds and burns. Not only had they lived together, but it was because of the mob boss that she was now in college, that she had been able to quit working for the Quartermaines, and why she had a job that afforded her the chance for improvement and growth. But, still, their association, arguably disastrous, had started because of a fire.

And, then, there was her son - her perfect, innocent, beautiful toddler, the reason she had fought so hard to survive for nearly five years, the one person who could always make her smile and the only person who loved her, he was now fighting for his life, barely hanging on all because someone had tried to kill him by torching his daycare center. Other little boys and girls had been injured, but nobody was as badly burned, as severely crippled, as catastrophically injured as Cam.

She had already talked to the cops, the fire marshal, searching for answers no one was able to give her. The young mother wanted to know _why – why _someone would want to hurt her baby, _why _someone would single her child out of two dozen to focus the ravaging flames upon. But nobody knew anything, at least, nothing helpful.

They could tell her how the fire started. Combustible cleaning and remodeling supplies had been piled together in a back storage closet, the one conveniently located right next to the little boy's room, and someone had torched the mysteriously assembled materials, purposely igniting the inferno that had nearly killed her only child. But, when she asked the officials _why _anyone would ever do such a thing, they just shuffled their feet, shoved their hands a little deeper into their pockets, and looked away from her.

They had even told her why they knew that Cameron had been the target. Because whoever it was who had set the fire waited until he was the only one using the restroom before they dropped the match and then ran out through the back door, trapping her four year old in the lavatory, it was obvious that he had been the intended victim. However, they couldn't tell her _why _the arsonist was in the building in the first place or _why _they would want her son dead.

And Jason had been clueless as well. While someone had been attempting to make inroads upon his business, so far, they had only used peaceful aggression, never targeting civilians or even the men he worked with. They had received no threats, no bribery attempts, and there had certainly been nothing to forewarn him that they needed to beef up security. As far as he had known, she and her little boy had been relatively safe, and the fire, always a fire, had taken him as much by surprise as it had her.

So, with no answers on _why_ her toddler was in the hospital and with even less information from his doctors on his condition, the petite brunette simply waited. The tears that she had already cried left wet, clean trails across her otherwise smoke and soot darkened face. Ashes dirtied her clothes and hair, and the smell of her own body, acidic and stomach churning from standing outside of the smoldering daycare center, burned the sensitive skin of her nose and prevented her from crying anymore. Her entire form felt drained, dry, completely decimated, and all she could do was pace, back and forth, back and forth, as she waited for news.

Her movements were sluggish, as if she was wading through a pool of syrup, but there was nothing sweet or innocent about her nervous agitation. Instead, her anxiety screamed of desperation and barely restrained rage. It manifested itself in her rigid pattern of steps, in the harsh twisting her fingers were subjected to, and in the angry, fraught lines of her set face. And she refused to allow anyone to comfort her.

Jason had tried, but she sent him away, begged him to search for a reason, for an explanation as to _why_ her son was fighting for his life. That's what she needed; she needed answers. What she didn't need was someone to hold her hand, to offer her a shoulder to cry on. For the first four years of Cam's life, she had been alone, and she suddenly didn't need someone to support her now, simply because the situation was critically grave. And, when the nurses offered to call someone for her, a family member, Bobbie Spencer, she had heatedly turned down their offers, in fact going so far as to threaten them to keep everyone else in the dark about her little boy's too numerous to list let alone comprehend injuries.

She just wanted to be alone. While the doctors would do everything they could medically to help save her only child and grant him as much physical comfort as possible, she would be there for Cameron emotionally. With her gaze never straying from his tiny, impossibly frail form resting helplessly on his hospital gurney in the ICU room, she timed her steps with the measured rhythm of his heart monitor, moving one leg and then the other every time his little body told her he was still alive, that his life's blood was still pumping throughout his injured form just as it was supposed to, just as it had to keep doing.

"And to think that I just had my maid put away all my mourning clothes. What a waste of my help's time."

The voice was familiar, almost disturbing so in its taunting, cryptic manner, and Elizabeth's pacing came to a stop as she turned to glare at the uninvited, unwelcome intrusion. While she was almost positive that she had never seen the strange woman before, there was just something about her that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up and what little color she had left in her practically ashen face drain away. Dressed in all black, from her stiletto heels to her inappropriately low cut top, the blonde did not belong anywhere near a hospital, let alone her little boy's ICU room.

"You don't recognize me, do you, Princess," the obtrusive presence asked, sauntering forward until she was standing directly beside the single mother, her body facing into Cameron's hospital room while Elizabeth faced her. "I dare say, if I hadn't of already known that you were here, I wouldn't have recognized you either." Raking her gaze up and down the petite brunette, the stranger smirked. "While I can always appreciate a new trend, I don't think soot qualifies as an accessory. What, doesn't this place offer grieving parents a place to clean up?"

She knew that there was a clue to the woman's identity somewhere in her forked speech, but all she could hear, all the college student could focus on was the fact that the blonde seemed to believe that her little boy was already dead. He wasn't, and she couldn't allow anyone – not even the tasteless viper standing beside her – to think so. "I'm not grieving."

"Well, of course not, at least, not yet," the familiar yet completely unrecognizable woman commented flippantly. "However, when the time comes, let me know. I can recommend a great hat maker, because, trust me, you'll want a hat for the funeral. It hides… all kinds of things you wouldn't want the other attendees to see."

"I don't… what... why are you…?"

"Oh, give it up already, Pollyanna," the stranger snapped. "While I understand that you might be slightly distressed at the moment, after all, your brat is on death's door, not even you are naïve enough not to remember me. I'm well aware of the fact that I made an impression that day." Still, when Elizabeth remained more focused on her son and still unaware of just who her harasser was, the blonde pressed on, explaining herself. "Alright, fine. I'll tell you. You and I met at Michael's funeral."

As realization washed over the former waitress, the woman laughed, the sound carrying absolutely no humor or warmth. Instead, it was empty, dead, haunting. "Aw, yes, I see you're not completely empty upstairs," and, with the dig, the still unnamed woman proceeded to tap the brunette caustically on her temple, her blood red nail catching just slightly in the tangled, frizzy curls at Elizabeth's hairline.

Turning away from the single mother, the stranger lounged her cat-like form against the wall that was shared between the hallway and Cameron's room. "You see, Michael and I, we were partners in every imaginable sense of the word – platonically, in business, both in and out of bed. After all, a real woman has an adventurous streak when it comes to her sexual appetite.

"Anyway," she drawled, rolling her eyes when her unsuitable comments didn't cause a rise in the twenty-two year old. "When we first came to town, intent upon claiming what was rightfully Sonny's, Jason wasn't so easy to get to. He was determined, ruthless, protected. There was barely a chink in his armor. Eventually, we settled upon blowing up Harborview Towers, but we knew that it was a risk. Not only could Jason not be there when the place exploded, but, by doing so, we were showing our hand early; we were telling him that we intended to take him out."

"And, yet, never once," Elizabeth interjected bitterly, "did the two of you think about all the innocent lives that would be lost because of your selfishness."

"Sweetheart," the blonde battled back, "this is the freaking mob we're talking about here. No one's innocent… including you and yours, but I'll get to that in a minute. First," she smiled sweetly, the harmless gesture belying her true intentions, "I want to thank you for distracting Jason so well. Not only did you help us find him after he went into hiding, but then you continued to be stubborn. You refused to believe him when he obviously told you that Michael wasn't your friend, you made him call off many of the security measures that he put into place, and you kicked him out of your bed, making him move out."

For some reason beyond her comprehension, the single mother found herself contradicting, "that's not how it was. Jason and I, we're not…"

"Do you think I give a damn what you are or are not doing with that brain damaged thug, Princess," the blonde spit out harshly, interrupting Elizabeth. "All I care about is the fact that you played right into my hands. Sure, I would have appreciated it if Sonny could have been here to enjoy our just desserts with me, but I take the spoils of this war and get pleasure from them myself. I'm not sentimental enough to allow the loss of a good fuck to cloud my business judgment. However, Jason on the other hand…"

Striding away from the wall, the woman stopped when she was a few paces away from the petite brunette and glared at her. "Give Mr. Morgan a message from me, won't you, Pollyanna? Tell him that, unless he starts cooperating more with me, the next time I make a move, I won't target someone you love, Lizzie. Rather, I'll instead go after someone _he _loves; I'll come after you."

And, with that, the blonde waltzed away, her tight, pencil skirt encased hips sashaying wickedly as she strutted down the hospital corridor and out of Elizabeth's sight. It wasn't a full minute after the other woman disappeared that the monitors behind the single mother started to go off. Doctors and nurses came rushing towards her little boy's ICU room, pushing her out of the way as they tried to get to her son as quickly as possible, and, as the words '_he's in cardiac arrest, get the crash cart_' penetrated through the swirling, dense fog of pain and despair clouding her mind, the twenty-two year old started to collapse, falling to her knees as the realization of guilt came thundering upon her.

Cameron was going to die because she had been too overconfident, too imprudent, too selfish to tell Jason about the mysterious woman at Sonny's funeral, the same woman who had basically just confessed a moment earlier to setting the fire that had so ravaged her little boy's body. She didn't need the police, or the fire marshal, or even the town's kingpin to tell her _why _her son had been burned; all she had to do was look in the mirror.

Just as her body was about to make contact with the floor, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her arms and chest, and a pair of legs slipped underneath her own to cradle her in their proffered lap.

Jason.

Even if she had refused to hold onto him all those months before, he still was going to be there for her, never letting her go until she asked him to. And, in that moment, Elizabeth wasn't sure if she'd ever have the strength to do so again, especially if she did lose her little boy.


	23. Chapter 23

**Safe… No More**

**Chapter Twenty-Three  
FNF#32: Life is not measured by the numbers of breaths we take but by the number of moments that take our breath away.**

Out of all of the complicated, countering emotions he was feeling at the moment, the most prevalent one was fear, and, if Jason was honest with himself, he was thankful for the distraction his worry was providing him with. By being able to focus on his concern for Elizabeth, he could push aside everything else – the guilt, the pain, the sadness, the self doubt, for, if he allowed himself to feel everything in that moment, he knew that he would fall apart and be of no use to the mourning mother clinging desperately to his arm, and the very last thing he ever wanted to do was let Elizabeth down again. After all, he had already failed her in the most devastating way possible. It was because of him that her little boy was dead.

Ever since the moment that the doctors told them that Cameron was gone, that his body had just been too damaged by the fire to fight any longer, the petite brunette had been silent. She didn't ask any questions, she didn't call out in grief, and she didn't even cry. Just as her face was completely expressionless, so were her dry eyes, and that scared Jason, for, even when the twenty-two year was trying to hide her emotions from him, trying to remain stoic, she was always an open book. She simply felt too deeply to push those feelings aside, but it was like she had finally found her breaking point, and, with losing her son, she had also managed to lose a part of herself as well.

Instead of allowing her to remain at the hospital in order to provide answers or worry about funeral arrangements, the mob boss had simply wrapped one of his arms around her perfectly straight shoulders and led her down the hallway, onto the elevator, and straight outside to where he had his bike waiting. And, then, instead of taking her back to the safe house where she and her four year old had been living, for he knew having Cameron's things surrounding her as though he was just at daycare or just in the other room quietly playing would be that much harder for the former single mother, he had taken her back to his own temporary living quarters. The ride had been short, and he had driven it as quickly as possible, practically desperate to get Elizabeth somewhere safe where he could take care of her.

Upon entering the building, she didn't even look up. Rather, the college student simply allowed him to guide her through the lobby, and, when they boarded the elevator, one glare from Jason convincing the other patrons to wait to take the next available lift, she didn't even attempt to pull away from his supporting form. By the time they entered his penthouse suite, he had been frantic for some kind of response from the brunette, but she simply entered the hotel room far enough that he could shut the door behind them once he joined her inside. She never moved to sit down, to look up, or to even verify her surroundings.

Needing to hear her voice, needing to reassure himself that the fiery, passionate, stubborn woman he knew was still somewhere inside of the lifeless form he saw before him, the kingpin prompted, "Elizabeth," hoping his own voice would be enough to provoke her out of her devastated stupor.

Luckily, it was, because, otherwise, he wasn't sure what he would do. His only other option would have been to call the organization's doctor and ask for him to stop by to examine the onetime waitress, not that he thought she would appreciate the gesture or even cooperate with it. And then there was the fact that he still needed to explain the fulltime physician employed for both his own personal use and for that of his men, but it was neither the time nor the place for such a conversation, and, considering what had happened that afternoon, Jason was doubtful that there ever would be a proper time to discuss the revelation with his former coerced roommate.

Breaking through his churning thoughts, the twenty-two year old pivoted slowly, slightly stumbling in her awkward attempt at movement, to face him. "Where… where are we?"

Shoving his hands deeply into his pockets, the crime lord focused all of his attention upon the pale but still beautiful brunette. If she wanted to make small talk, then so did he. After all, small talk was at least safe. They could manage that together… he hoped. "I, uh, this is where I've been staying since…"

"Since I kicked you out," Elizabeth finished for him, glancing away to allow her gaze to roam around the hotel room. "Well, at least that answers that question."

"What question."

"Why you never got all those notes that I left at the safe houses," she responded, sounding almost wistful.

Swallowing thickly, he asked, "what were they… what did they say?"

She snapped back towards him, her rapid actions startling the blonde momentarily, and her eyes flashed dangerously as she said in a dead tone, "it doesn't matter now."

Jason allowed the topic to drop, fearing it was about her son and not prepared to step into that landmine, at least, not yet. So, instead, he crossed the few paces that separated them, took the onetime mother by the hand, and led her back towards his bedroom and bath. He had brought her back to his suite to take care of her, to make her as comfortable as possible given the present situation, and to offer her a private place to grieve, but he wasn't emotionally prepared enough to discuss her little boy, so, in both an effort to delay and soothe, he sat her down on the closed toilet seat as he busily moved about the ensuite, gathering everything he would need to make Elizabeth, at least, physically more relaxed and at ease.

Neither of them spoke, but he could feel her singeing gaze upon him the entire time as he respectfully stripped her of her stained, ruined clothes, tossing them in the garbage before turning to her and kneeling down on the floor before where she sat. Reverently, he washed away the dirt and ash from her skin, keeping his eyes averted so as not to offend her. Despite the circumstances, his body was very much aware that the woman he had been attracted to for months was sitting just inches away from him, perfectly naked except for the tiny scrap of material she wore as underwear. Once her body was clean, he helped her stand, leading her to sit on the edge of the tub.

Though it would have been easier and more timely to have simply helped Elizabeth take a bath, that was just slightly too intimate for the mob boss to handle at that point. So, instead, he rinsed her body off while still allowing her to keep some of her modesty and proceeded to wash her hair after releasing it from its tight confines. With her dark, thick locks cascading down her back, he simply poured water down over her head, keeping her eyes shielded as he first shampooed and then conditioned the silky strands. Once he was finished, he helped her dry off before simply slipping one of his own t-shirts over her head and then guiding her into his bedroom and towards his king sized bed.

Once she was tucked in, Jason sat down beside the twenty-two year old. Giving into his need to touch her, to console her, he ran his fingers through her wet hair in a reassuring, calming manner. "Just sleep, Elizabeth," he murmured, keeping his tone light and soft despite all the warring emotions struggling for release instead of him and practically choking the air from his lungs. In an attempt to both coax and lull, he whispered, "rest, please."

But she refused to give in to the obvious exhaustion plaguing her petite form. Instead, the college student pushed herself further up, leaning back against the headboard as she peered curiously, guardedly at the kingpin. "Why are you being so nice to me?" It was the first time in almost two hours that she had shown any emotion, but the short display did not help to alleviate Jason's concerns.

After several quiet beats in which he considered his response, he finally answered, "I don't know what you mean? Why wouldn't I…"

"Because it's my fault."

Those four words caused him to rock back in anguish and remorse. "No it's not. Why would you say that, Elizabeth?"

Bitingly, the former single mother quoted, "_'How did you not hear your own child get up this morning?' 'I would think that you would want to do what's best for him, but what do I know? After all, you're the same woman who slept through her son waking up and going out to spend time with a stranger this morning, and you're also the same woman who can't provide for her kid properly, so she trespasses on private property and puts his life at risk every single day. What kind of mother are you?' 'If you could just separate your hatred for me for five minutes from your common sense, you would see that you're wrong, and I'm right. Sonny is dangerous, Elizabeth, and, if you continue to…'_"

"You knew. You knew that I was a bad mother, that I was putting my son at risk by thinking that I could actually raise him on my own with a waitress' meager salary, and that I was too proud to put my kid first. And you knew all along that Sonny was just using me. Hell, you warned me, Jason, that my decision to be friends with him would someday come back to bite me, and you were right. So, don't stand there and say that I wasn't to blame for my son's death, for there's really no other conclusion you could possibly come to."

With that, she stood from the bed and began to pace. Unsure of what to do and definitely clueless as to what he should say, the crime lord simply remained seated, his shoulders slumped forward in defeat. She was right, he had said all those things to her, but she had taken them out of context, and she had seemingly forgotten that they were all spoken to her out of anger. In the calm, rational light of an even temper, he was well aware of the fact that Elizabeth was a wonderful mother. Right or wrong, she always attempted to put her son first, even to her own detriment. She had sacrificed so much to even have him in the first place, and, for the four years that followed Cam's birth, she had been her little boy's entire world.

The sound of something crashing him pulled him out of his thoughts, and Jason turned to see the petite brunette lashing out and destroying the room they were in. While she wasn't crying, the sounds that were emanating from her tiny body could have easily brought him to his knees. She was both moaning from pain and growling in self-hatred as she ripped paintings off the wall, breaking them against the various pieces of furniture throughout the space, dumped out all his nearly empty drawers, and tossing various pieces of decoration against the mirror above his dresser, shattering her own distraught reflection.

Crossing to her in four quick strides, the mob boss wrapped his arms around her quivering form, drawling it back towards him as he held onto her tightly. Despite the fact that she struggled against him, showing more strength than he would have guessed, he refused to let her go, intensifying his hold to keep both her agony and her wrath contained. It wasn't that he was concerned about his obliterated room. Rather, he was worried that, left alone and to her own devices, the brunette would somehow hurt herself.

Lowering his head until it rested upon her quaking shoulder, Jason tilted his face towards her ear and whispered, "it's okay, Elizabeth. You're alright. I know that it doesn't seem like it right now, but you will get through this. I don't care what I have to do, you'll get through this. And it's not your fault." Swallowing thickly, he continued. "You're right when you throw those words back in my face, because I did say them, but that doesn't mean that I was right as well when I accused you of being a bad mother. Cameron was such a lucky boy to have you in his life, and, if given the choice, he wouldn't have ever asked for a different mom."

Hiccupping she countered, "that's because he didn't know any better."

"No," the blonde contradicted. "That's because he couldn't have found someone better." Taking a deep, bracing breath, he confessed, "if there's anyone to blame here, Elizabeth, it's me. I brought you into this life. When I found you squatting in one of my safe houses all those months ago, I should have just let you and your son go without forcing you into helping me, but I didn't. Whether it was because I was selfish and lonely or because I was just a cruel son of a bitch, I'm not sure, but, no matter what my reasons were, I'm still to blame for this happening. I didn't keep you safe, and, for that, I'll always be sorry. You have no idea how sorry, Elizabeth."

She was quiet for several minutes as she digested his words, and she stopped fighting his hold against her, but, still, the kingpin didn't let her go. After several moments, he felt her trying to turn around in his arms, and, thinking that she needed to tell him something important, he allowed her to twist her body so that they were facing one another. However, instead of opening her mouth to talk, she opened it to kiss him, crashing her lips onto his own in a frantic, impatient, severe embrace.

"Make me forget, Jason," she begged, dropping her arms to slip them underneath his shirt, dragging her nails up and down his back in a painful yet entirely erotic manner. Suddenly sobbing against him, her tears mixing with the sweet taste of her captivating mouth, the brunette choked out, "please, Jason, please. I need you; I need to forget. Make me forget… just for a little while, please."

He knew it was wrong, but, for a brief, delicious moment, he couldn't help himself; he kissed her back. Sweeping his tongue into his blistering mouth, he kissed her hard enough to steal the very breath out of her body, willingly giving her his own in return. Just as her feathering touches slipped beneath the waistband of his jeans only to dip down and harshly grab hold of his ass, the tips of her lean digits biting into the sensitive flesh, he found his own arms reaching down to wrap around the very tops of her thighs, lifting her effortlessly into his embrace as he quickly, purposely moved them towards the bed once more. Collapsing on top of her all too willing form, Jason ripped his lips away from hers long enough to take a deep, fortifying breath, and it was in that moment that he realized he couldn't do it.

He couldn't sleep with her, not like that, not then, not as a way for her to forget when all he wanted was for her to remember.

Pulling away from her, the mob boss rolled over onto his back before pushing himself up to lean against the headboard. Without asking for permission, he reached over and picked Elizabeth up, lifting her so that she was settled over his lap. Immediately, his desire and arousal passed as he took in just how destroyed the twenty-two year old was. She was weeping so inconsolably that she couldn't breathe, and her grief had managed to rob her of all her warmth, leaving her shivering.

He didn't say anything in an effort to comfort, for, really, there was nothing he could say. Instead, he just covered her up, lovingly tucking the blankets around her trembling form as he held her against him snuggly. Eventually, her sobs became whimpers, and she turned in his embrace so that she was resting against him on her stomach, her arms gripped tightly around his waist, her legs sprawled outside of his own, straddling him. And he held her just as securely, one hand clutching desperately at her t-shirt covered hip and the other buried deeply into her still damp, curly locks.

Jason wasn't sure how much time had passed, but, eventually, there was a knock at the door, and, a moment later, a guard stuck his head inside the demolished bedroom. Respectfully, Johnny spoke, "I just got word that the warehouse has been bombed."

"Handle it."

Surprised, his second in command questioned, "did you not just hear what I said, Jason? It. Was. Bombed… as in destroyed, obliterated, reduced to nothing. It was a complete loss, and there are men dead. You need to go down there."

"No," he argued, never once raising his voice for fear that any anger would disturb or distress Elizabeth further. "What I need to do is stay right here. I'm not leaving her, O'Brien, not for anything, so you, and Max, and the rest of the guys better figure out a way to take care of this without me."

Simply nodding his head in agreement, Johnny backed out of the room, closing the door after him to leave the two grieving adults alone once more. It was then and only then that the crime lord felt the woman in his arms truly relax, and, minutes later, he knew that she had finally drifted off to sleep. It was what she needed, the rest, what they both needed, in fact, but Jason knew he wouldn't be able to sleep himself, at least not for a while longer. Rather, he would just take comfort in the fact that Elizabeth was finally at peace, even if only in her dreams, and that would just have to be enough… for the moment.


	24. Chapter 24

_A/N: Obviously, in real life, I would never wish harm upon a child, and to imagine an innocent, beautiful little boy dying the way that Cameron did is quite disturbing. However, this isn't real life; it's fan fiction, so, as callous as this might sound, children are expendable if it helps to tell a gritty, emotional story, and the death isn't used as a prop. The fact that several of you weren't surprised by Cameron's demise made me feel better about my decision, too, because it showed me that the plot didn't come out of left field. I've tried to lay some groundwork to show that such a thing was possible in this story so that you'd be emotionally prepared, and, somewhere, somehow, that must have come off successfully. And, yes, for those of you wondering, Cameron really is dead. He wasn't just kidnapped and his death faked to put Jason and Elizabeth both through the ringer and to give Jason's enemy the upper hand. Quite frankly, this particular enemy, this woman, wouldn't have the patience to deal with a child. She's an even crueler version of the woman we've previously seen on the show. Clue! As for this upcoming post, Elizabeth finally opens up to Jason, but, then again, such a reaction might prove to all of you to be careful what you wish for. Thanks for reading and responding to this story. :grin We're almost finished with it, folks. After this post, there's only one more remaining. Happy weekend!_

_~Charlynn~_

**Safe… No More**

**Chapter Twenty-Four  
FNF#33: Heart Attack.**

Appropriately, it was cloudy and rainy that day as they buried Cameron.

Though Jason wasn't one for poetry or silly sentimental notions, he even knew that it just would have been wrong if the sun would have been shining that afternoon. The bright light and warmth of a beautiful summer's day would have mocked their loss, Elizabeth's loss, and she didn't deserve that.

Hell, she didn't deserve anything that was and had been happening to her. She hadn't deserved his cruel, selfish treatment all those months ago when he forced her into taking care of him. She hadn't deserved getting pulled into his unstable life, but, for some reason he still wasn't sure about, the mob boss had been unable to help himself when it came to the petite brunette and her only child. And she did not deserve to suffer through the loss of her little boy. She had already mourned the death of her high school sweetheart. The last thing she needed was to lose anyone else, especially the only person who gave her life any meaning.

He wasn't stupid, despite what people said about him, and he knew that, without Cameron to inspire her, to guide her, Elizabeth's existence lost its sole purpose. She was more than just a mother. She was a beautiful woman, a talented artist, and she had the potential to be an inspiring art teacher, but Jason wasn't sure if she would continue with her studies now that her four year old was dead. Why would she want to? Becoming a teacher was supposed to have helped her become a better mother; it was supposed to have improved her son's life, and, without him, the crime lord knew his former roommate would care nothing about bettering her own circumstances.

The worst part was, without Cameron, she had nowhere to turn for support and love. Her family had ostracized her, shunned her, simply because she had dared to disappoint them, and they had never once given her the credit she deserved for picking up the shattered remnants of her life and doing the best she could with what was left of her former world to make a healthy, happy home for her child. They had called her little boy a bastard, turned their noses up against him, and refused to welcome him into their houses or their hearts, and, now, when he was gone, when Elizabeth needed her grandmother, and her parents, and her siblings the most, they still refused to support her.

And she had no friends either. Yes, there were the guards, but the only reason the onetime waitress knew them was because of his coerced presence in her life, and, yes, she had his support as well, but Jason was determined to offer her that from a distance. He held onto her tightly, kept her close to him for the past few days selfishly, but, now that Cameron was buried, he knew what he had to do. If he wanted to make sure that Elizabeth didn't meet the same end as her little boy, he had to push her away, make it clear to his enemies that she meant absolutely nothing to him and that the only reason he had kept her around before was because he had been attached to her son. Without Cam, his enemies had to believe that twenty-two year simple didn't exist for him anymore.

It would be the hardest thing he had ever been forced to do, harder than dealing with Robin's betrayal, harder than stepping up and taking over the organization for a mentally failing Sonny, and harder than saying goodbye to a child that had been dishonestly promised to him, but it was also the most necessary decision the kingpin had ever made, and he was determined to stand by it. The only way he would give in and relent was if Elizabeth asked him to, because, at that point, he would give her anything, do anything for her… even if it wasn't what was best for the both of them.

"Jason?"

Other than the ever-present, constant sobs that she had tried to keep contained throughout her four year old son's funeral service, it was the first time the petite brunette had spoken to him, to anyone, in hours, and, to encourage her to say more, the mob boss stepped forward, placing her own tiny, trembling hand comfortingly in his own much larger one. Squeezing her soft, pale fingers once, he lent her as much support as he could in the simple gesture, hoping she knew just how much he cared.

"There's something that I need to tell you."

Swallowing briefly, he rasped out, "you can tell me anything, Elizabeth. I, uh, I hope you know that… now."

"I do," she admitted, but there was no confidence present in her tone. In fact, Jason didn't hear any emotion there at all. In a mute, dead voice, the college student continued. "All those months ago at Sonny's funeral, someone approached me, but I didn't tell you or the guards." Looking to the sky and frowning, she confessed, "I didn't even think to tell anyone."

He wasn't sure if he was supposed to comment, if he was supposed to show her that he had heard her words and was waiting for her to tell him more, so he just remained quiet, and, eventually, she pressed on without prompting. "The whole exchange was… odd, including the way the woman was dressed. To be honest, she looked like a cheap hooker, but then she had this ostentatious, towering hat on that had layers of tulle that hung down to keep her face obscured. I remember thinking that she was inappropriate, and I was taken aback not only by her appearance but also by what she said, but, eventually, I just dismissed it, because I had other, more pressing matters on my mind."

Finally, he couldn't remain silent any longer, and, helpfully, the blonde suggested, "Sonny's death," as a means of explanation for her previous distraction.

"No, actually," Elizabeth contradicted, still refusing to turn and look up at him. "I was thinking about you."

Sighing, she pressed on. "Anyway, that doesn't matter. What does is this woman. She kept calling Sonny 'Michael,' and she claimed to know who I was and what I meant to Sonny, threatening that she wouldn't forget me either. And, then, after delivering her message, she just left, claiming she was allergic… or something to churches or sermons, I don't actually remember, and she walked away."

"Well, I admit that it all sounds strange, but why are you telling me about this now," Jason wanted to know. "I really don't see why it's…"

"Because I saw the woman again just a few days ago," Elizabeth snapped, interrupting him, uplifting her gaze to unfeelingly glare at the mob boss. "If you would have just let me finish, I would have gotten to the part where I told you that the very same woman from Sonny's funeral cornered me at the hospital right before Cameron went into cardiac arrest."

He couldn't help it; he exhaled sharply at the brunette's admission, but she didn't seem to notice his distress. Continuing, she explained, "I didn't recognize her at first, despite the fact that she was still dressed like a prostitute… even more so in fact, but she didn't have her face covered this time, and I was a little preoccupied in that moment. Anyway, she kept taunting me about Cam, insisting that he was going to die, and then she started talking about Sonny, telling me about how they had been partners, both personally and professionally.

"At first, I didn't get it; I didn't understand what she confessing to, but then she just came right out and admitted it. She told me that they were the ones who bombed your apartment building, that they had tried to kill you, and then she thanked me for distracting you and keeping your attention diverted. And she made it perfectly clear that she was both responsible for my son's death and that she wasn't going to stop coming after you."

"How," he demanded to know, needed to know.

Simply stated, Elizabeth answered, "she asked me to pass a message along to you." Fully pivoting to face him, they stood with their bodies just inches away from one another, her chin tilted up practically in defiance as she recited word for word the other woman's threat. "She said, "'unless he starts cooperating more with me, the next time I make a move, I won't target someone you love, Lizzie. Rather, I'll instead go after someone _he _loves; I'll come after you.'" Laughing almost madly as if she had lost her mind, the single mother stated, "I really don't think she could have been any clearer, do you, Jason?"

But he didn't respond. He couldn't. Rather, his mind was frantically moving from one piece of information to another, from one memory to another. With Elizabeth's confession, everything suddenly made sense – why it seemed as though Sonny had been in two places at once, how he had managed to gain the resources to attempt a hostile takeover of the organization, why things had not completely calmed down after the Cuban's death. But he also realized that he needed more information as well. Most importantly, he needed a name, because, off of the top of his head, he couldn't recall any major player with enough power, with enough wealth to take him on who was a woman.

Recapturing his attention, the twenty-two year old in front of him started to apologize. "I'm so sorry, Jason." Pleadingly, she beseeched him for his forgiveness, despite, evidently, still blaming herself. "If I would have just told you months ago about that woman at the funeral, if I would have said something to one of the guards…"

"Even if you would have, that doesn't guarantee that Cameron would still be alive," the kingpin found himself regretfully admitting.

"Yeah, but it would have given you a chance to figure out what was going on. Because of my gullibility, because I was too stubborn to see past my own sadness and grief and recognize the fact that you were just trying to keep us all safe, you didn't have all the information. You were basically fighting blind because I was too proud to trust you."

"Maybe so, Elizabeth," the crime lord granted, "but you wouldn't have reacted that way to me if I wouldn't have treated you so badly." When she went to argue with him once more, he stopped her. "Look," the blonde suggested, "we've both done things wrong, and those mistakes have now cost you your son, but, at the end of the day, it's my lifestyle, my choices that brought this violence into your world, into your little boy's world, and nothing you said or did can come anywhere close to being as much to blame for Cameron's death as my decision to hold onto the two of you, and, for that, I'm the one who is sorry."

Reaching out and lifting up his hands, he allowed himself a brief moment to touch the woman standing before him. His palms cupped her pale, silky-soft cheeks, and his thumbs caressed the delicate flesh, swooping down to lightly run over the corners of her plump, red mouth. Tipping his head down so that their foreheads were resting together, Jason felt his eyelids flutter shut, and he exhaled once in release. Blindly, searchingly, for he still had yet to reopen his eyes, he kissed the petite artist, keeping their embrace respectful at her son's gravesite, but, still, he couldn't help the moan that escaped his tightly clenched jaw, and he couldn't help himself from wishing he could deepen the chaste yet passionate clinch.

But, somehow, someway, he controlled himself, and, after several moments of their lips just simply pressed together, the mobster pulled back, opening his gaze to, once more, peer down at the breathtaking brunette before him. "I am in love with you, Elizabeth. If nothing else, you deserve to know the truth about that, about why, up until this point, I've been unable to completely let you go. But no more."

"I, uh, I don't understand," the onetime waitress admitted, her deep, emotional eyes filled with bewilderment and uncertainty.

"I promise you that I will take care of this, that I will make sure that this woman… whoever she is… pays for taking your son away from you."

Attempting to redirect their conversation, the artist started, "but you said…" only for Jason to cut her off once more.

"But, unless you need me for something, unless you come to me, this is the last time we'll ever see each other, Elizabeth. While it's going to be hard for me to let you go, I will… if only to keep you safe. I failed at protecting Cameron, but I won't make that mistake twice. You can't stay in my safe houses any more, you can't work for me, and I certainly can't help you go back to school. This is goodbye."

When she didn't say anything, when she didn't protest his decisions or argue with him, her eyes just disoriented and unclear as they watched him, Jason slowly started to back away. Step after step, he moved from her, wishing that she would call out and stop him but, at the same time, hoping that she wouldn't. And she didn't. Eventually, he turned around and purposely trudged back to the awaiting car, knowing that the woman he loved, the woman he was in love with, was still standing forlornly, hauntingly alone at her little boy's gravesite, and, though it pained him to admit it, even to himself, he knew that walking away from Elizabeth was for the best… even if it hurt like hell and felt completely wrong.


	25. Chapter 25

_A/N: Well, here we are. Finally. I know that many of you didn't want to see this story end, that you felt there was still much to tell, and I guess there is except that I didn't want to tell it. For me, this story was all about getting Elizabeth and Jason to the place they will be in by the end of this chapter; whatever happens afterwards wasn't meant to be told. I'm sure everyone will have their own visions of Elizabeth and Jason's future in their minds, but, honestly, I don't personally have one myself. I admit that this sounds odd, but it's also the truth. I hope this ending isn't too ambiguous, that you feel as though you've been given, at least, some closure. If nothing else, though, you'll at least know for sure who the mystery woman was. That is finally revealed. Thank you all so very much for sticking with me for this story. It was started so many months ago, but, then, I went MIA. When I returned, you were still there with me, and, for that, more than anything else, I am sincerely grateful. Also, as this story developed, your comments made me think, and that's always productive for a writer, and I loved the fact that sometimes this little tale of mine would spark some debate. That was fun. So, thank you for reading, thank you for reviewing, and thank you for putting up with these two blockheads. ;) I know; they've certainly tried your patience, haven't they? And, oh yeah, there will be a new story started soon (I'm already working on it), and I have another collection of one shots coming, too. Ciao!_

_~Charlynn~_

**Safe… No More**

**Chapter Twenty-Five  
FNF#34: Dream as if you'll live forever; live as if you'll die tomorrow. **_**~ James Dean**_

Her name was Faith Roscoe, and, just as Jason had promised her, she was dead.

Two weeks after she and Jason had said their awkward, uncertain goodbyes, she had heard rumblings at work of a mob war. Tension in the little city of Port Charles had skyrocketed. Others blamed the violence on greed, on the instability of the criminal element, but Elizabeth knew the truth. This time, this war, it was personal. The town's most powerful mobster was avenging _her _little boy's death, and he was doing so swiftly and efficiently, just as she had known he would.

A month after Cameron was buried, Faith Roscoe's body had also been lowered into a premature though deserved grave. She had been burnt beyond recognition. In fact, dental records had to be used in order to identify the remains, but, later, _a suicide note _had been found, left by the blonde barracuda, and, in the missive, the deceased clearly took blame for Elizabeth's only child's murder, claiming her guilt had gotten the best of her so she took her own life. Everyone knew it was lie; they knew that Jason Morgan had sought revenge for a little four year old boy that most people had just ignored in life, but, for the first time in his career, no one really cared _why _he had committed murder. Rather, they were just thankful that Ms. Roscoe could no longer reign down her own brand of destruction and bloodshed on their community.

As for Elizabeth, Faith's death had finally allowed her to truly start to grieve, and, two months later, that's where she was still was, rightfully so. Every day was a struggle – a struggle to get up, a struggle to take care of herself, to eat, and shower, and brush out her hair, and a struggle to maintain her emotions long enough while she was in public so that she could cry herself to sleep at night when she was alone. But she did fight. She fought for Cam, wanting her toddler to be proud of his mother even in death, and she fought for Jason, too.

He had kept his other promise as well. Since the day they had talked at her son's gravesite, she hadn't seen the kingpin once. The only news she received of him was relayed through the newspapers or through idle town gossip, neither of which she trusted as the truth. And the guards were gone as well. Once, she had seen Adam, her very first bodyguard who had only lasted a day, running errands, but, as soon as he saw her, he turned in the opposite direction and practically ran away, obviously on strict orders to avoid her at any cost, and, surprisingly, she didn't resent the mob boss for his highhanded decree.

While she didn't necessarily agree with it, she understood Jason's decision. He believed his former actions to have been selfish, he blamed himself for Cam's death, and, now, he was determined to make sure that she didn't get killed as well thanks to his involvement in her life. The only problem was that she missed him. Whether he was physically with her or not, the blonde was a constant presence in her mind, in her heart. Three months time away from him had managed to give her some perspective on their relationship.

There was no arguing with the fact that the crime lord could make her angrier quicker than anyone else she had ever known, including her self-important family, but Elizabeth found herself wondering if maybe Jason was capable of goading her temper so well simply because he knew her better than anyone else. He knew exactly what buttons to push to get the reaction he desired, and he would push those buttons until she erupted. She wasn't naïve either. While she had only technically been in one adult relationship, it had been sexual, obviously, for she ended up giving birth to that man's child, and she knew that the passion of rage could seamlessly mold into the passion of desire, and she and Jason had experienced that spark several times together.

But there was more to her connection with Jason than just harsh words and a handful of toe curling kisses. Unlike anyone else, he believed in her. No matter what his faults, he had sent her back to school, insisting that she better herself for both her own welfare and that of her child's. He had believed that she had enough talent, enough skill, and enough intelligence to make something of herself, and that was another reason why she was still fighting against her own sorrow, pushing on day after day even when she didn't want to get out of bed.

Jason could also be sweet and almost sensitive when one really wasn't looking and when he didn't realize what he was doing. He would think of others before himself, and she should have seen that months before as she witnessed his interaction with her little boy. But she hadn't. It had taken Cameron's death and a new outlook on life to give her the clarity to understand her former roommate. He had sent Max out for strawberries for her, using magnanimous gestures as well as words to apologize simply for getting drunk, and he had held her for two days straight after her four year old's murder, refusing to work, refusing to grieve himself as she either cried brokenly on his chest or rested fitfully in his arms.

And there were so many other things about Jason that she admired – his strength, his tenacity, his loyalty to his men, and his preference for the simple things in life. Looking back, she could even admit that he was slightly funny… even if he didn't realize it himself. He was good with children, selfless enough to put someone else's needs ahead of his own, and, if someone allowed him to, he would listen like no one else in the world could. Plus, he found her beautiful, before and now, and it had been so long since Elizabeth had felt like anything but a failure as a woman, barely held together and unattractive.

Most importantly, though, he had shown her the wind, giving her the freedom to experience such a life altering moment but holding on tight enough so that she wasn't alone while doing so.

Yes, she missed Jason, but she took those emotions and she put them into her art. Without Cameron, without a friend to lean on, painting was the only thing keeping the soon-to-be twenty-three year old sane. The summer had almost completely past, and there was already a slight chill in the air as autumn rushed into upstate New York. But she was glad for the seasonal change. The warmth of summer would never be as beautiful to her as it once was, and Elizabeth welcomed the harsher weather of the latter months of the year. The cold wind would be bracing, the snow would be refreshing, and the transformation her world would soon undertake would allow her to at least not see the colors and sounds she had last experienced with her son.

September had brought along other changes to her life as well. She officially had a new job, her ninety days of probation having past, and she was waiting tables at a little diner on the docks full time in the afternoons and evenings. Though it wasn't The PC Grill, the petite brunette found that she earned more at the little family establishment than she ever had working for Edward Quartermaine, and she enjoyed her clientele so much more. It was hard sometimes, seeing all the young families together – happy, laughing, loving each other, but, in turn, she also needed that kind of atmosphere. It was healing in its own excruciating way, for it showed the former mother that life does, in fact, go on.

She had also changed her major. Without Cameron to guide and inspire her, teaching no longer appealed. There was no reason why she would need a schedule to match her son's when she no longer had a little boy to go home to, and there was no reason to want the summer months off when all they did was remind her of the last few blissful days she had spent with her four year old before he died. So, now, she was studying simply to be an artist, painting constantly, both to complete her assignments and to purge herself of all the suffocating, overwhelming feelings she was drowning in.

And she had a new place to live, too, an old, drafty, tiny studio that was just large enough for her, a couch, and an obscene amount of art supplies but small enough to keep her from feeling too lonely. While it wasn't the safest building, that word no longer held a meaning for the waitress. Three months ago, she and her only child had been under the protection of one of the most influential mobsters on the east coast, and, still, her son had been murdered. Although Jason had effectively pushed her out of his life, presenting to the world an uncaring mask when it came to her welfare, Elizabeth knew that safety – both physical and emotional - was just an illusion.

Her dump of an apartment was only a five minute walk from Kelly's, but, as she closed the door to the diner behind her that early evening, the brunette knew that she wasn't ready to go home yet. It had been a rough day. While no day was perfect, far from it, some days were worse than others. Some days, she felt Cameron's loss a little more smartly, and, some days, she missed Jason a little more desperately. All she wanted to do was wonder aimlessly for a while, clearing her head, before she went back to her empty, much too quiet home for the night. But, unfortunately, as seemed to be her lot in life, things didn't quite work out the way she had envisioned them.

Five minutes into her walk, and, as she was passing the front of a toy store display window, Elizabeth was struck dead in her place by the sight before her. Legos. Pile after pile, bucket after bucket, the tiny, colorful blocks were spilling over themselves in the bright, visually appealing exhibit. She almost fell to her knees as soon as she realized what she was looking at.

_"Drop the legos, Cam," the single mother ordered her little boy, finally prying the toys from his grasp. "You can't take them with you. We don't have time to clean up this mess."_

Not until that moment did she realize just how large of a role the blocks had played in her life. Not only were they, at one point, her son's favorite toys, but Legos had been the reason why they had been delayed in leaving the safe house all those many months before, why Jason had managed to stumble upon them, how he had managed to so swiftly enter their life and turn it completely upside down. Just a few tiny, colorful blocks, and, now, everything was different.

Stumbling away from the window, Elizabeth pressed a trembling hand over her mouth, hoping the gesture would be enough to stifle her sobs. While she allowed the fresh tears to course down her pale cheeks, knowing full well there would be nothing she could do to stop them, she didn't want to mourn too publicly; she didn't want the pity stares or the sympathetic frowns, and, so, rushing towards something, anything else, she walked on.

Lost in thought, simply moving forward on autopilot, the twenty-two year old didn't even sense her surroundings until she heard a far-away yet all together unmistakable rumbling in the distance. It had been months since she had heard that particular sound, and it wasn't until she was studying it, leaning into it, straining to hear it more clearly that she realized just how much she had missed riding on the back of Jason's bike, even if she had only been a passenger a few times.

_In realization, Elizabeth sighed merrily. "Oh," and, picking her son up, she agreed, "I can do that." Settling him on her left hip so that her right hand would be free to point things out, she started to do just what her three year old requested. "Did you know that Jason once took Mommy on a motorcycle ride?"_

_At Cam's wide eyed surprise, she laughed out loud. "I guess not. Anyway, I loved it."_

_"It was fun?"_

_"Oh, baby," she gushed, smiling just from the memory, "it was the most fun I've ever had. Anyway," she refocused them, "this is what riding on the back of his bike looked like."_

But, when the motorcycle sped past, she realized that it wasn't Jason driving it, and disappointment swamped her immediately. With anyone else, on any other bike, it just wouldn't be special anymore. Elizabeth knew that she could only see the wind with her onetime roommate, and she also knew that no one else would drive as wildly, as satisfyingly as the blonde.

Unable to go further, she searched for a place to sit and found an empty patio table outside of a fancy ice cream parlor. By the time she realized her mistake, it was already too late, and the waitress was forced to sit there as she watched two parents, a young mother and her slightly older husband emerge from the shop with their child held securely held between them. The father carried the toddler on his hip while the child got his chocolate ice cream all our his precious, cherubic face, and the wife had her free arm, the arm that wasn't carrying their lone shopping bag, wrapped tightly around her husband's waist. They were the picture of familial bliss, and a hot, violent, enraged bolt of jealousy snapped through the brunette, momentarily leaving her breathless.

_"Mommy, mommy, mommy," Cameron called out, running through the house. As soon as the three year old burst into the living room, Jason and Elizabeth separated, retreating to their own corners so to speak. Neither of them wanted the child to be affected by their anger._

_"I got ice cream," the toddler exclaimed, though the evidence was quite apparent on his chubby face. "Chocolate," he declared, happily lifting a dish of the same sweet concoction towards his mother. "I got you some, too."_

_"Why, thank you, sweetie," the little boy's mother beamed towards her son, bending down to kiss his sticky face. "That was very nice of you."_

_Cameron shrugged, obviously pleased with both himself and his treat. "Jason said to."_

Decision made, she pushed back her chair and practically sprinted down the sidewalk, returning in the same direction that she had just come from. Past the store with the Legos, past Kelly's, and down to the docks where her studio was located, she ran, never once pausing to consider her actions. Instinctively, she just followed her heart until the point where she was emerging from her dilapidated apartment building, one long duffel bag packed with the bare essentials clasped firmly in left hand. With her right, she hailed a cab and, once seated, gave out directions she knew she wasn't supposed to even know.

Ten minutes later, she was deposited in front of the new, soaring high rise which had replaced the old Harbor View Towers, her time in the yellow car both the slowest and the fastest of her life. As she strolled into the lobby, guards seemed to recognize her, but they remained clear of her path, obviously intrigued by what she was doing there. But Elizabeth never even noticed them. Instead, she just purposely strode to the elevators, boarded the first available lift, and pressed the button for the penthouse floor just a single, resolute time.

Before she knew what was happening, she was standing in front of Jason's door, hoping, praying, silently threatening the man she was seeking out into actually being home. And he was. Revealing himself as he opened the threshold to his brand new, still unfurnished apartment, the mobster wore a curious, almost pained expression on his handsome face as he simply waited for her to tell him why she was there.

And that's exactly what Elizabeth did. Moving closer to the blonde, she stood directly before him, mere inches separating their rapidly rising and falling chests, her gaze riveted to his own as she whispered, "I don't want to be safe anymore, Jason." Before he could react, there was one more thing she needed to confess, so she rushed to get the words out before he could stop her. "And, before you say anything, I just need to tell you that I'm in love with you, too, have been for probably months but I didn't realize it until just…"

That's as far as she got before his mouth came crashing down upon hers and the door was kicked shut behind them as he pulled her both into his arms and into the place that she just knew they would make into a home together. Although she was kind of irritated that he didn't let her finish, she just went with the moment, fully aware that she would be able to yell at him for the rest of her life… no matter how long or short it would be. It wasn't everything, she still missed her son desperately, but, for the moment he - Jason - was enough. The rest… well, they would figure the rest out together… much, much later.


End file.
